Dragon Wars: The Force of Others
by RECKLESS SOLDIER-MS
Summary: After the Rebellion comes the war. Thedas's newly forged Rebel Alliance continues its war against the Sith Empire that has enslaved their world. Meanwhile in a galaxy far, far away, a thought dead hero of Thedas must traverse a galaxy of outlaws and monsters, and through a dying old republic to gather the hope his world desperately needs.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age or Star Wars

Coinciding with the release of the new Star Wars film, as well as the release of my first part of this series, here is the sequel to Dragon Wars: Rebellion

To new comers, its basically like a Series 2 where Rebellion was series 1. So the chapter/episode style carries on from the previous story. As a summary for the newcomers, the Sith Empire took over Thedas, changed its political structure and history and the fates of many characters. In Ferelden, the human Mage Daylen Amell worked together with Loghain Mac Tir to found a rebellion, winning their first battle, but at a cost.

The Force of Others will explore other parts of Thedas, and the galaxy far, far away, introducing the Republic. Each chapter will be told by a location point of view, first with the Thedas galaxy, and then with the republic space. In terms of the canon and overall story, this takes place after Knights of the Old Republic 2, but characters from other timelines of Star Wars, both canon and legends will have versions of themselves introduced in this series.

With the explanations out of the way, enjoy everyone and Happy Christmas.

* * *

_A long time ago in a galaxy Far, far away..._

**The rebellion begins, Thedas has risen up in rebellion against the Sith empire. Uniting under the name of the rebel alliance, the people of Thedas begin the long task of finding a means to shrink the gap between them and the more advanced empire.**

**Meanwhile, Jedi Grand Master Meetra Surik has sensed the approaching darkness. The Old Republic is waning, the chancellor Gaian Valorum has reduced the republic's military strength and downplayed the Sith as an extinct threat. Hundreds of systems in the republic have left to form a confederacy of independent systems, protected by former Jedi Lord Hoth and his army of light, or have been conquered by the Dark Brotherhood, a group of dark Jedi led by fallen master Skere Kaan. While on Ossus, a man assuming the name Darth Krayt has declared the systems surrounding Ossus 'the new galactic empire' and has launched a war of conquest. Chaos has spread across the galaxy as warlords rise to make their own boats for dominion.**

**In the republic, Meetra calls upon her fellow former Exile, Jedi Guardian Klue and his service corps to face the new threats, and investigate an unknown ship that has warped into the Typhon system. Whilst in imperial territory, following the example of the believed dead Daylen Amell, Loghain Mac Tir launches a guerrilla war against the empire.**

Dragon Wars: Force of others

Episode 21: Those whom rise

The Lambda class shuttle was the primary transport of Imperial VIPS. Through the space lanes between the planet Thedas and a distant moon named Orcho-0, the shuttle flew. Imperial fighters came up on the flanks of the shuttle, the red armoured pilots looking through the cockpit canopies at the markings on the ship.

"Shuttle Theta-6, you have blaster marks on your starboard hull, have you been in a fire fight recently?" the pilot of one of the escorts asked.

"Affirmative escort, we came upon a rebel cell seeking to steal our cargo," the pilot said.

A moment passed in which the information was verified. An attempted theft of Theta-6 was in the logs.

"Aren't we done here yet?" the passenger demanded.

She spoke with an imperial accent, and wore the garb of an imperial. A white shirt with a red collar and a black and red cloak. Her skin was tanned and hair dark, her makeup marking her as someone whom prided herself on appearance. After another brief pause, the shuttle was given the go ahead to dock with the station on Orcho-0. The shuttle came down towards the landing pad, its wings folding upwards as it landed. Dust swept across the region, marking the white armour of the 'elite' Stormtroopers. But the young men and women behind the armour were fresh out of combat training, untested. Even the commander who stepped out to greet the VIP believed that keeping order amongst the locals, the 'primitives' who still believed in swords, arrows and gods would be easy.

"Welcome to Orcho-0, how may I help you?" the commander asked.

"I am here on behalf of Governor Ridley, her construction project on the Frostback mountains requires more workers," the VIP said.

"I heard there was a rebel presence there!"

"Refugees from Ferelden and the Dales are being rounded up as we speak," she stated.

"Well, we have a great many slaves here capable of physical labour. Mostly primitives from the lands North of the continent of Thedas, Svanhild I believe it called. Many of them are strong, but they are unruly. You have a better chance of controlling the Twi'leks, we have children for the small jobs requiring crawlers, the men can lift well enough. For a price though I do have a 'special stock'," the commander explained, grinning as he looked at the woman.

She frowned, looking at the outpost and the slaves already being punished with shock staves and physical exercise. The slave trade was common in the empire, many commanders and regional governors undertook it.

"Pray tell, what is this stock, and what might be the price for securing it?" she asked.

"Wookies, migrants that tried to establish a colony on one of the distant worlds. They're much stronger than humans, and despite their dialect very intelligent. But they're susceptible to certain treatments, shock them right, behave in the right way and like dogs they'll fall under heel."

"I might just accept it," the VIP said. "Can we find a place away from the rabble and the dust to discuss terms and price?" she asked.

"Yes, yes, the command centre is well enough away from the noise!"

The VIP clicked her fingers at her two guards, both of them in the red armour and robes of the imperial guard corps. They marched alongside her through the corridors of the complex. Though the commander didn't notice it, the VIP was looking at the guard postings, the way the place had been built. It was built into the natural mountain growth of the moon itself. If the tunnels collapsed, many would die. Of course these things were thought of as impossibilities. The command centre was small, having no windows and only vents for air. A semi circle of consoles was the only real thing in the room.

"We'll take the Svanhild stock for ten thousand credits and the Wookies for an additional ten thousand," she said.

"No," he shook his head, frowning at her. "Wookies are rare on this side of space, thirty thousand credits for them."

"You made it out like there was an entire colony, you have approximately twenty. Considering their worth and the importance of the project I will pay fifteen thousand."

"Twenty thousand, considering the worth of the project," the commander smirked as he put his hands on his hips.

"Fifteen thousand for the wookies, my silence on your side venture and the cargo of ale I can claim to the fleet authority was stolen during the rebel's attempted hijacking," she explained.

The commander put a hand to his chin, thinking for a long moment.

"What kind of ale?" he asked.

"The kind that is illegal, my silence, for your silence," she gestured to him and raised her hand in offer to seal the deal.

He smiled as he shook her hand. Unknown to him however one of the guards had dropped something from his cape. A ball and a half ball, that magnetically fused together and had rolled through one of the vents. Cranes at the port unloaded the shuttle's cargo and port workers began to punch in the access codes.

"You'll be sure to tell the governor of my support?" the commander asked.

"I'll be sure to tell the Arl of your generosity," the VIP said, smirking herself.

A confused look crossed the face of the commander. One shared by those who opened the crate, to reveal a group of men and women in armour. At the front of the men stood a silver haired elf, a battle crown covering part of his face. He held his sword with both hands, runes across his skin beginning to glow.

"This may hurt," he said, grinning.

One of the men beside him fired his crossbow, whilst the one on his right threw a knife. Both projectiles pierced the necks of the guards. The silver haired elf came out of the crate, and was the first to strike the other guards. He swung his sword, beheading one guard. Then, his arm suddenly passed through another's, crushing his heart.

"Fenris here," he said, grabbing the comm. device on his belt. "We're in!"

Inside, one of the red guards nodded her head. She activated her electro staff, swinging it into a Storm troopers neck. Her fellow guard grabbed the arm of the Storm trooper beside him, redirecting his blaster fire to the ceiling. He smacked the trooper with his rod, once to break his leg, then another in the head to knock him out. The commander put his hand to his pistol, only for the handle of a gun to slam into the back of his head.

"We could have waited a little longer Bethany," the VIP chided the red guard, her accent revealing her Antivan roots.

Both guards took off their helmets, one revealing a dark haired girl, the other a dark haired man.

"You know Fenris, he won't wait whilst others are in chains Josephine," Bethany said.

"I'm not saying he should, but rushing to violence like this..."

"Is why we are here Montillyet," the man said, crouching by the commander, producing a knife from his belt.

He proceeded to stab the man in the throat, spraying his blood across the floor.

"Nathaniel!" Josephine gasped, putting her hands to her mouth in horror.

"He was a slaver, he doesn't deserve your pity," Nathaniel Howe threw off his disguise.

Underneath it he had been wearing a blue tunic and plates of silver armour. He unravelled from the cloak a small quiver of arrows, then he folded out a bow. After manually attaching the string, he took out his comm. device.

"Tethras have you broken through yet?" he asked.

In one of the tunnels, two Storm troopers were standing idle. One was bopping his head along, listening to his favourite song.

_"I'm Solo, I'm Solo! I'm Ha..."_

"INCOMING!"

Suddenly, the wall was blown open, sending both troopers crashing into the wall. A blonde haired dwarf ran out of the dust, his coat part open to reveal his hairy chest. He carried in his arms a customised cross bow, and wore a silver guard on his shoulder. Other dwarves quickly came after him, men and women in Carta uniforms and Legion armour.

"We're in, broody?" Varric grinned.

Outside, Fenris crashed his sword through the head of a Stormtrooper.

"Sliced through the door, we're going in!"

He ran through the doors as they opened, leading the warriors behind him. In the security station, Nathaniel and Bethany fired at approaching Storm troopers. Nathaniel his bow, Bethany bolts of fire and lightning from her hands. When her mana ran dry she drank potions to replenish. As they held the door, Josephine began hacking the security system. Having been given an imperial education in tech, she was more familiar with computers than most. Sliding through different areas of the network, she accessed logs.

"There are a hundred able bodied North men, with fifty additional Twi'lek and human slaves. The commander was right, they have twenty wookies!"

"We won't have enough room in the shuttle for all of them, we need to free the fighters and come back for the others. Forget the wookies, we won't be able to communicate with them," Nathaniel explained.

"But we can't just leave them," Josephine said.

"She's right, besides **he **wouldn't have left them behind. Football, have you found the shuttle bay?" Bethany asked.

The appropriately named, ball shaped utility droid had been working its way through the access tunnels, shutting down cameras, alarms and the wiring of additional defences. It stopped and warbled out a series of beeps.

"F8-B1 says that it is almost there, the log says that there are four shuttles. I know how to pilot, if you get me to Varric or Fenris's group I can join them and help evacuate," Josephine explained.

"If we take the risk..."

"This isn't your mission Nathaniel, I'll take responsibility, we're not leaving anyone behind," Bethany said.

She came out of corner, manipulating the gravity with mana, called force magic before the force came to Thedas. The enemies in front of her were lifted up, and then slammed into the ground. Bethany twirled her staff, slamming it into the ground. A fist of rock then bashed the soldiers into the ceiling. She shocked one as she passed, her allies following behind her. They came into the mining level, just as Fenris shoved his sword through the chest of a trooper. He nodded to the three rebels and ran down the corridor with his squad.

"Place the charge, quickly," Fenris commanded his Ferelden breacher.

The man in red heavy chainmail armour removed a rocket launcher from his back. He fired, trading the launcher for the modified beam gatling gun. It had a sword strapped to it, allowing it to act as a bayonet weapon too. He began firing as the smoke from the rocket cleared, hearing the yells of the troopers behind the door. Archers and pistol wielders behind him followed up the shooting, hitting other enemies that flooded towards the door.

"How long Bethany?" Fenris demanded.

He and his squad went through the wrecked door, entering the mining area and the prison complex. Prisoners were put in laser grid cells on platforms, ones connected to elevators that would take them to the mining levels. F8-B1 came to a stop at a conduit, and slid out its mechanical arm, beginning the process of slicing through security. On the other side of the complex, Josephine kept hidden behind Varric's squad, the dwarves crashing axes into armour, tearing knives though flesh and returning blaster fire with bombs and crossbow bolts. A carta dwarf placed a mine on the ground, running to cover as the over eager Storm troopers pursued him. The concussive wave threw the Storm troopers back and buried them beneath rubble.

"We're nearly to the shuttle bay, got some plans of my own scruples," Varric grinned at Josephine.

Varric shot two troopers in quick succession, using hand signals to coordinate his squad. They gathered around a blast door and placed pads and discs over it.

"Applying lyrium now, placing fuse," one of the legionnaires took a deep breath as they fixed a fuse onto the device.

Varric removed a pair of matches from his coat pocket. He lit the fuse and faced either side of the door with his squad. They prepped their crossbows and stolen blasters, whilst two legionnaires lit fuses on their grenades. The device on the blast door activated, melting a hole into the metal.

"Dagna will be pleased to know it works," Varric muttered.

The two legionnaires threw their grenades, the explosion blowing a cloud of smoke through the door. Then the dwarves began fitting through the gap, checking the room for any troopers still alive.

"Get up to the control room, get the doors open and man the guns, there's a secondary hanger they'll be launching fighters from," Varric said to his squad mates. "Wedge, prep one of the shuttles for launch!"

"Bethany, are we ready yet?" Josephine asked over the comm.

"Football will be ready," Bethany knocked a trooper off of a platform, throwing him into the depths of the mine below.

Nathaniel managed to sabotage one of the control panels, enough to get a cell door open. Inside were Twi'lek men and women, some were strong, but most were malnourished and sick. He looked towards Bethany, who was using electric magic to open the cell of another group of Twi'lek slaves.

"Don't worry, we're not with the Sith, we're here to rescue you," she said, drawing a pistol from her hip and giving it to the first strong looking Twi'lek she saw.

The others picked up the weapons of the dead Storm troopers. Or at least those Twi'leks who weren't supporting the old and young. Still, Bethany did look like a leader.

"We need strength Bethany," he said.

She stabbed her staff into a console, shocking it enough to open the cell door. Inside it were the twenty wookies. Both Bethany and Nathaniel had heard of the Wookies, but the descriptions they heard hadn't done them justice. Despite their dirty fur, they were gigantic, like human bears. The Wookie at the front, though not the biggest of them was the first to stand, narrowing her eyes at Bethany.

"I don't know if you can understand us, but please understand this," Bethany threw a blaster at the Wookie's feet. "We are enemies of the empire, we fight them, will you fight them too?" she raised her hand, an offer.

One the Wookie considered for a moment, taking a step towards Bethany. She took Bethany's hand and let out a roar. Bethany wasn't intimidated, she didn't raise up a defence. The Wookie leader turned to her clan mates and let out the same roar to them. Each of them began to roar too, raising their arms up in applause.

"This is our strength Nathaniel, unity," Bethany said.

Her eyes were so determined, just as **his **had been. The Wookies were strong, and angry, and not the animals they looked like. They understood Bethany's directions, they understood the priority was rescue. On the level below them, Fenris's group cheered as the cells began to open. F8-B1 had done its job.

"I am not one of you, but I have tasted the sting of the empire's whip, in this we understand each other. Fight with us and we will see that you are never enslaved again, we will see the Sith pay!" Fenris too was a leader, throwing sword and blaster to those who exited the pens.

The North men and women were big and bulky, many dressed in ragged clothing and even loin cloths. One took an axe and raised it over his head.

_"Let's go kill some fucking Sith!"_

None of the Ferelden or Kirkwall rebels understood his words. But it rallied the northern fighters and they ran out of the cells.

"We fight," the man said to Fenris in his thick accented voice.

Fenris ran alongside the giant, slicing through flesh as he crashed his axe through armour.

"Anyone who can't fight go down that corridor, the rest of you, please come this way," Bethany said, guiding the freed fighters and slaves through the corridor of tunnels.

F8-B1 suddenly crashed through one of the vents, beeping and whistling to Bethany.

"You shut down communications, great job buddy that should buy us some time," she had learnt droid speak at the tower, though it wasn't a subject many saw the point of.

Even **he **hadn't studied how to communicate with the astro-mech droids. Fenris and his team, alongside the Svanhild fighters, Wookies and other freed fighters joined Bethany in their run to their freighter.

"Oi, why are bears running into our ship? I thought Varric was joking when he said those Sevenhild lot were as strong as bears," the blonde haired, elven pilot said.

"Its pronounced Svan, and the furry ones are Wookies, now get us out of here Sera, we need to support Josephine and Varric as they take off," Bethany said.

Nathaniel and Fenris climbed down to the gunner ports, the former operating beam cannon and the latter a chain gun. Sera began to raise the ship off of the dock, scraping one of the railings as she flew.

"Watch it Sera," Bethany said.

"Well if you can fly better be my guest, then we'll see how far we really get," Sera retorted.

The Wookie leader came up to the cockpit, tapping Bethany's shoulder and gesturing to the controls.

"Get the wocky away, it's fur stinks," Sera said.

The Wookie growled and roared at Sera.

"She not it Sera, and unless that wasn't evidence enough she can understand what you're saying," Bethany said.

"Then why the bloody hell doesn't she speak proper words then?" Sera asked.

As she ranted, the roar of the infamous Tie fighters echoed and the ship shook. Sera swerved the ship, throwing some of the crew off balance. The Wookie leader had to lean on Bethany for support, shaking her head as she looked at Sera.

"Sera, try to get us into position," Fenris said.

"Position for what?"

"FOR SHOOTING THEM DOWN MAKER DAMN IT!" Bethany yelled.

"Oi, don't yell at me, I'm looking to stick it to the empire nobs too you know!"

Again the ship shook, the crew feeling blaster fire hit the ship. The Wookie leader threw her arms up, marched over to Sera and lifted her off of the chair with one hand.

"HEY!" she screamed as she was thrown away from the cockpit.

"What is the bear trying to do, break the ship apart?" Sera demanded.

But much to her shock, the Wookie sat at the piloting seat, pushed a few buttons and took a hold of the control sticks. Fenris and Nathaniel both smirked as their targeting retinas lined up with their targets. Nathaniel swept a beam through his target, whilst Fenris shot his apart. The ship increased speed, and the ride was much smoother. Bethany watched the Wookie operate the machines without hesitation, as if she knew exactly how to fly the machine. Because she did know how to fly it, because the Wookies weren't animals, they were intelligent beings. Just as, if not more so than the people of Thedas. The two shuttles came out of the mining hanger, carrying cargo boxes.

"Josephine, Varric what's with the cargo?" Bethany asked.

"A change of plans, something Varric insisted on, don't worry Bethany, we've got them out," Josephine smiled as she spoke through the shuttle comm.

She looked behind her, at the Twi'lek and Thedas families, all of them sharing reunions. They had accomplished something great, but this was just phase one of the mission.

"We'll meet you at the rendezvous point," Bethany said.

She began took several bags, beginning to pass out weapons and armour. Armour made by dwarves, Ferelden and Kirkwall armour, even some plates from Storm troopers or the regular imperial military. Then came weapons, swords, axes, bows and arrows and blasters. Sera unzipped her imperial disguise, revealing her red, shoulder less top and skirt. She put her brown skirt back on and pulled her bag away from the new recruits. Inside it was her bow and arrows, her archery glove, utility belt and a shoulder guard.

"I'd rather stick some arrows in people anyway," she said and Bethany smiled.

Despite some of her many flaws, Sera was a good archer, and she was creative too. Bethany would prefer her on the field than in infiltration and piloting. Bethany put on her own equipment belt, adjusted her scarf and white top, reinforced with chainmail. Then she picked up her custom staff 'staff of the new growth' and walked over to the Wookie pilot.

"All right, this is where I need you to take us," she said and began to whisper the coordinates into her ear.

* * *

**Frostback Mountains-Rebel raid-phase 2**

Under the grey cloths they laid, Loghain and his men. Knights of Ferelden, the assembled army of a destroyed country. Now they waited, waited for the moment to strike. They had slowly crawled up the mountain path, until they were near enough the imperial stronghold to see it. Built into the mountain, the stronghold belonged to governor Ridley. She had experience in the Sith military, limited to communications and trade organisation though. Shuttles lanes hadn't yet replaced roads, and Ridley used caravans to transfer supplies. The empire dug into the mountain, taking mineral deposits that would be transferred to caravans, taken to Orlais and transported off world via shuttle. Loghain saw it as the empire bleeding their world dry, leaving nothing for them. The empire took not just minerals, but lyrium too, and any artefact of elven origin. Then there was the bodies, young Thedosians indoctrinated to be loyal to the empire, to join their enforcers the Storm troopers or be cannon fodder for their regular military.

A full scale war would not be fought with the empire, that much Loghain knew. Storm troopers were well disciplined and loyal, but in actuality poorly equipped. Their armour had more weaknesses than the kind the regular Sith military used. Any marksmanship ability a Storm trooper had, was minimised by the helmets they wore. Their armour made them weak against the elements too. Whilst a regular Sith soldier was adaptable. In short, the Storm troopers were equipped to intimidate populaces and the regular army was trained to kill them.

Against either force, the rebellion would not last. But hit and run tactics, a 'guerrilla' war would drain the empire's resources, whilst the rebellion would build theirs up. Traditionally. a guerilla war's primary goal was to drain an enemy's resources and eventually their economy, to make fighting and holding on to land more costly than it was worth. Loghain however suspected that the empire would not so easily cast Thedas aside. For all the good the Ferelden mages and the man who united them had done in freeing Ferelden, their actions had shown the Sith the value of mages and that Thedas was ready for a higher form of war.

"The shuttle is incoming," Loghain heard Cauthrien say.

She was using a spy glass, he however used a pair of binoculars taken from an imperial officer. Turning the dial on its side, Loghain looked through the clouds at the shuttle. He analysed how it flew, much smoother than that red Jenny girl.

'Were they discovered?' he wondered for a small moment.

Then he saw that the shuttle was flying on the same path he had agreed on with Bethany. The shuttle flew over the castle, making sure Ridley and everyone else was looking at it. For a moment it drifted over the landing bay, before it rotated. Its guns aimed at the fuel tanks.

"Now," Loghain declared.

As the blasters fired, and the explosion broke the outer wall of the castle, the next phase of the plan begun. From the wilderness of the mountain road ran Eamon and Teagan's men, knights and men at arms in heavy and medium weight armour. They ran as fast as they could, carrying their blades and arrows. Some of those archers stopped near the castle wall, firing arrows at the men posted at them. As these men fought, Loghain and his group threw aside their covers and began unravelling the climbing rope they had gathered. Loghain made sure his was the last man down in his group. Rappelling off of a cliff was still a very new and dangerous process to the rebellion. Loghain had done his fair share of climbing in his youth, trees, and even mountains. Before the Sith arrived he and Maric spent years fighting the Orlesian occupiers. That meant finding new places to hide, and new ways to get to those places. Loghain understood the physics of it, he understood that if the man at the top of a line climbing down was incompetent, or had the slightest slip, there was a good chance he would knock off every man on the rope on his way down. That was a mistake Loghain unfortunately saw on the line of rope across from him, one person on the middle of the rope fell off, and took the two others beneath him with him. Loghain himself was taking a risk, anyone did when they trusted another with holding their rope.

For at the top of the mountain, it was a struggle for those to hold the rope. They had others to support them, but some of the men burnt their hands sliding the rope through them. Others drifted towards the edge, then there was the soldiers down below. Eamon's distraction was not enough, some of the troopers on the castle walls took aim at the climbers. Suddenly, the turrets from the shuttle fired and killed those men. Then the shuttle door opened and a sight that made the Ferelden knights cheer emerged. Fenris and Nathaniel's men, their Svanhild allies and a few Wookies. They landed on the castle walls and began cutting and shooting their way through the men.

"We need to send messengers to the caravans, divert them away from us and send for reinforcements," Ridley said.

When Loghain landed on the castle wall, he removed his bow from his back. Knocking back on the string, he aimed at Ridley. She was young, as young as he had been when he took command. Looking at the conviction and strength in her eyes, part of him believed she was different from the other imperial officers. Perhaps there was no bigotry, perhaps her confidence in her abilities was because of her abilities and not her arrogance.

'She reminds me of **him**,' he thought.

All that he thought before he let go of the string. Any admiration for a an enemy's skill, or pity for their allegiance (which Loghain rarely had, a patriot was a patriot). When Ridley fell to the floor, her blood staining her uniform, there wasn't a complete breakdown of command. Or there probably wouldn't have been, the base wasn't filled with incompetent people that had to be told what to do. But there was that moment of chaos, when troopers hesitated for but a moment and the rebel morale soured. That small moment of hesitation was all the battle tested members of the rebellion needed to tip the battle in their favour.

When the troopers were dead, or bound, Loghain stabbed his sword into the dirt and raised the broken helmet of a Storm trooper. Bards would write that the scream of victory rocked the mountain, another moment in which the rebellion proved it could stand against the empire. But it had hardly been the point of the battle. Further away, another branch of the Ferelden rebels carried out Loghain's plan. Caravans of supplies were ridden from the cities towards the base. Supplies one man and his band would take.

"Forward," that man whispered.

It was spoken as a command he didn't want to give. Because he didn't want to be a leader. Some time ago Alistair had been a Knight-Trooper, a templar/trooper hybrid, an experiment of the empire. But he witnessed the horrors the Sith were capable of, not in the name of the empire, but of the force they coveted. He abandoned the armour and wore pads of brown leather, pads bound by a rope string across Alistair's chest, with fur around the edges of them. Alistair's boots also had fur on them. He rode a black horse, his father's sword on the saddle, along with a force pike and crossbow. Alistair himself carried a pick axe, ideal for battering armour or piercing the gaps.

Those he led were from the villages of Ferelden, hunters, thieves, anyone who hated the empire enough to do something about it. Then there were those with the most skill. Behind Alistair was Leliana, the red haired beauty, the hand of the 'true divine'. She wore leather armour over her red top and knocked back arrow after arrow, shooting imperial guards around the caravans. Sharing their horses were Zevran and Oghren, elf and dwarf of contrasting attitudes. Zevran threw knives and Oghren crashed his hammer through the helmets of the troopers. The most terror was inspired by Sten of the Qunari. Like most of his race he was tall and powerfully built, unique in the fact he did not have horns. Yet he still had astounding strength, dismounting his horse and lifting two troopers off of the floor, pinning them to the trailers they protected and choking them to death.

"Leliana, Zevran, calm the horses, take the reins and then start guiding the trailers back to the castle, the rest of you dispose of those bodies," though he did not want to lead, he was good at it.

The raiders took supplies, and possessions off of bodies. When not rebelling, they still had credits to make. Imperial banners were torn from the castle, and a mass of Ferelden refugees formed camps there. Loghain looked down from the castle gate, nodding to Alistair as his group trotted into the castle, their bounty behind them. Bottles of wine were opened and Loghain allowed the group to be merry.

_"Enchanters, the time has come to be alive, in the circle of magi, where we will thrive with our brothers!"_

A tavern singer with a lute played, Loghain could not recall her, or perhaps his name. He watched them enough to know they had been born one sex and not the other. The song they played did nothing for the Svanhild rebels, whom began singing boisterous songs in their own language. Some were still covered in blood and revelled in the victory and new friendships.

"The Wookies that Bethany recovered fought well, but there will be a problem if we can't communicate," Eamon explained to Loghain.

"So long as they understand orders it will be fine," Loghain said.

He, Eamon, Teagan, Anora and Cauthrien stood in a tent, a paper map of Thedas on their table. As brilliant as the holo maps were to Loghain, he knew the old ones were easier for the two former Redcliffe lords to understand.

"Apparently there is a fortress in the mountains, Skyrim, or was it hold?" Teagan put a hand to his chin as he spoke.

"We're not going to set up a base, not yet, we took this castle with the intent of resting our forces and planning ahead. What are Tethras and Motillyet doing with the cargo they recovered?" Loghain asked.

"They're going to make an investment of some kind, apparently our Muun ally made a special request to the dwarf," Eamon said.

"I will send a message to them, if they want to keep secrets they become commanders, I'll not have them using lives for their agendas. We need to set up a situation for prisoner exchange, we can't afford to keep them at the rate were stacking them and I wouldn't waste the ones we can use. Have any mages stepped forward?"

"We have them all still listed as dead, Finn has been assisting with intelligence, Wynn is seeing to the wounded and Irving is helping her, for someone who was once tranquil he has stepped back into his magic quite well," Anora commented.

"What about that insolent one, the young man from the Anders?"

"That's what they call him, but he hasn't been seen since we left Ferelden, and I can confirm he definitely didn't go on the suicide mission," Cauthrien explained.

"I spoke with both Irving and Wynn about him, apparently fighting for something other than himself wasn't in his character," Eamon huffed.

As they spoke of the possible future, Leliana walked across camp. She had taken off her armour in favour of her chantry robes, looking up at the castle walls to see Alistair sitting on them. He was resting an arm on his knees, looking up at the moon and the stars around it. She set down next to him, lightly kissing his cheek.

"They're discussing their next move, you know what ours has to be," she said.

"Loghain knows what he's doing, he fought Orlais for years," Alistair said, his voice distant, not quite dismissive of her but still not paying absolute attention.

His gaze was distant too, as if he was looking at a specific place in the stars.

"Can you see him?" Leliana asked.

Alistair lowered his head, and she touched his cheek, turning his head to look at her.

"We need him," he said.

"We need to be the people he knew we could be, wherever he is in the galaxy he needs us to be as good as we can be. Which means surviving, as good as Loghain's tactics are, they won't survive orbital bombardments. That means that we have to convince Loghain to let us search for the ancient knowledge, the technology of the precursors. The message we found was just the beginning Alistair, there is more out there," Leliana explained.

"I know, but what will we become if we chase it?" Alistair asked.

"A force capable of standing against the Sith, a rebellion that **he** is going to need..." Leliana paused as she looked at Alistair, almost afraid to say what she was thinking. "For when he gets back!"

Alistair nodded his head, wherever Daylen Amell was, the rebellion still needed him.

* * *

Hutt space

Korvis, a planet of deserts and rocks. It still had its rainy seasons, long ago the native people believed that blood sacrifices were necessary to summon forth the rain. They formed arenas and in their 'modern' times turned these rituals into games of sport. Though the native species was extinct, it had become home of many Hutt clientele, a holiday destination of sorts. The ecosystem had been altered because of imported creatures and continual colonisation. Even the arena itself had changed, to use the tech the Hutt's needed to contain thousands of slaves.

"Come, come, bring them in," said Torvan Renal.

Torvan was a Nikto, and like many of his species ancestors was a servant of the Hutts. He was not a slave himself, in fact he commanded much respect and had a senior position in the Deus cartel. The Nikto wore clean robes highlighted with gold, rings on his fat fingers and he had treated his skin with genetic therapy most lower Nikto's couldn't afford. He stood in the dusty training ground of his estate, reserved for gladiators he kept. Today was the day he would analyse slaves to determine worth and use. The Trade federation built battle droids guided them in, the droids themselves were an old, inferior model compared to what the reformed federation was building for the confederacy. Torvan liked them, finding the way they talked and acted cartoonish. That wasn't to say they weren't still deadly.

"Welcome to your new homes," the trainer, Maximus said.

The design of his chest armour marked him as Mandalorian, he also carried the scars of battle, as well as a whip to keep slaves in line. His role was to choose gladiators. Torvan looked for other slaves, those whom could serve the needs of their master's body, or building their legacies, fighting their wars, some even for just dying. He saw Wookies whom would be good for a construction project on Korriban, saw Theelin females good for a Theelin man's repopulation efforts in the Outer rim, Twi'leks that could serve for the entertainment and pleasure of a Hutt on Tatooine. There were a few humans, but most were insignificant. Torvan found humans to be like a lottery, they were so genetically diverse, no two were the same.

"This Wookie was a hunter on his world, I can see from his stance and the state of his paws, he'll go to the arena," Maximus said. "This human shall be for the mines, the Twi'lek too," the Mandalorian came to a Nikto, looked at his muscles and broken head spikes and sent him off to the arena.

Torvan continued looking at the line of slaves, his eyes coming to rest on one who had been robbed of his hand. He stood a foot over the man beside him, tall enough to be intimidating, but still not be considered a giant amongst humans. His skin was dirty, though there was some kind of race related tan to it, he had the muscles one could gain from regular exercise and fighting. Some scars were on his body, but they mainly gathered on his face. Maximus stood away from the young man, but did not need to cross the distance between them to know him.

"The severed limb, the shape of the cut, that came from a light sabre," he said and that caught Torvan's eye.

"The burn on his face, the way it is shaped, that's from force lightning, a dark Jedi power," Maximus said.

The man's eye twitched a moment, Torvan watched him closely. Apart from that one moment, the human was passive, his eyes were barely open and partly covered anyway by the bangs of his brown hair. However long he had spent in transport, his hair had begun to become long. A scar also ran over his eye, not deep enough to blind him though.

"He was found amongst the wreckage of a ship, in deep space sir," one of the droids explained.

"The smugglers that recovered him were astounded that he survived," said another.

As Maximus had said, there was a burn mark on his face, beginning from his cheek and forming a half bridge over his nose.

"As am I, what is his designation?" Maximus asked.

"Um, its...number 13 sir," the battle droid said.

"Thirteen, have you fought dark Jedi before?"

There it was again, a slight movement in the young man's eye, not enough for him to open it but there was something in him that recognised the name Jedi.

"Answer when your number is spoken," the Mandalorian unravelled his whip. "Thirteen, answer the question, SPEAK!"

The old warrior swung his arm back, bringing the end of the whip far out behind him. Then with a luxury he had perfected for years on worlds where slavery was legal, he swung the whip forward and lashed the young man across the chest, cleaning off some of the dirt on him and leaving a red mark.

"Answer," he repeated, before lashing him again.

Next to the young man, a Twi'lek nudged his shoulder.

"Answer them, or they will continue to hurt you..."

"Silence number fourteen," Maximus snapped.

He swung the whip at the Twi'lek, catching him on the eye and making him recoil. The Twi'lek still stood, but clutched his eye in pain, his knees shaking and face filled with fear as Maximus reared the whip back. When he swung it round, the tip cracked and all froze. The one armed man had caught the tip of the whip, a difficult feat to accomplish when Maximus wielded it so harshly. Then, they saw the young man's eyes, now fully opened. They were red, a colour not common amongst humans. But beyond that there was something that caught both the Mandalorian's and Torvan's interest. Anger, courage, defiance, and not just in his eyes but stance too.

Maximus raised his hand, wires on his glove charging with electricity before he touched his whip, passing an electrical current through it. The young man shook briefly, sparks of electricity passing through his body. Yet still he stood and Torvan blinked for a moment. He could have sworn he could see the man's eyes sparking. Maximus pulled the whip out of the man's hand and struck him with enough force to throw him to the ground.

"That one will go to the arena," Torvan said and the Mandalorian nodded in agreement.

The young man looked up at the sky, defeat in his eyes. Three people looked down at him, a blue light glowing around them. Two were dark haired men, one shorter than the other and in blue robes, whilst the other had blue and yellow robes. The girl had red hair and wore red and brown robes, playing with one of the two bangs over her eyes.

"Well, this seems to be a fine mess you've gotten into," the man in the yellow and blue robes said.

"He's been in trouble before Niall," the girl said.

"Not like this Petra, but I'm not worried," the younger man said.

"Technically Jowan we have nothing to worry about anymore, that's what they say after all!"

"Very funny," the dark haired man shook his head and knelt beside the one armed man. "You can see what this is can't you?"

"Unless space robbed him of that many brain cells."

"His magic and the force protected him Niall," Petra said.

"You always had the potential for that kind of power, you know what you need to do with that power," a smile crossed Jowan's face as he stood tall. "Fight, for what is right, as you always have my friend..."

"Daylen Amell!"

Next Episode 22: Those who fall

* * *

Hope everyone enjoyed the first chapter, yep, Daylen Amell returns, but he's obviously not the man he was at the beginning of Rebellion. Some original ideas came into this story, the introduction of the Svanhild people. Thedas is just a single continent in what would be a large planet, so there's more than what we see in the game, Svanhild is based upon Norse and Medievil German language, culture and armour.

The second part was kind of a Spartacus nod, in fact, in my head Mandalorian Maximus (another obvious reference here) is voiced and modelled after Manu Bennet of Spartacus and Arrowverse fame. Daylen's arc will be very similar to Spartacus in some ways, but ultimately be the story of him getting back up again, but battling with a new darkness within him.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars or Dragon Age.

Some info this chapter on what's happening in the republic, and some focus on Daylen's situation in the last half.

Now this Old Republic is a mixed timeline, it uses some characters from the different eras, so that's why we're seeing Army of Light era characters in the same timeline as Knights of the Old republic.

* * *

Dragon Wars: The Force of Others

Episode 22: Those who fall

It had stood for a thousand years, the galactic republic, a beacon of democracy, progress and unity between different systems. Progress though didn't always translate well, technology and science were not the only ways to advance. Coruscant was a marvel in that it was a singular city spread across an entire planet. But the only sources of its original life was the murky mountainous regions, no greenery, no grass or trees or oceans. Meetra Surik saw a great tragedy in that, just as she saw a tragedy in the number of senate seats empty. Once, the senate building had been filled with the chairs and voices of thousands of worlds. Now, its floating platforms had under a hundred seats, a sign of the dying times of the republic.

Meetra sat in the darkest corner of the senate building, watching the event of the day. A tribunal concerning the Supreme Chancellor's disarmament bill. The former Jedi Exile and reformer of the order was a middle aged woman, her once blonde hair had silver streaks in it. Traditional Jedi robes covered a body toned and scarred by combat, despite her age, even without the aid of the force she was still a great light sabre combatant. But her days as a military leader were over, at least she tried her best to ensure they were. To her flank, further in the shadows was one of her former apprentices, and member of the new council. Visas Marr's veil marked her as a Mirakulan. Also present of the council was the Vurk master Coleman Trebor, and the Quermian Yarael Poof.

"People of the senate, I present to you Admiral Carth Onasi!"

The speaker's announcement was followed by a singular platform floating towards the main podium. On it was the lone figure, the famous war hero. Carth looked the part, his uniform was neat and it had his multitude of medals on it. His greying beard and tired eyes showed he was like Meetra, a product of the war. Yet here he stood, and Meetra could sense the defiance resonating from him. In the years since the reformation of the Jedi order, its splintering (again) and the scattering of the republic, the republic navy and military had been overworked, underfunded and underappreciated. Carth stood in support of those living crippled without benefits, those whom had lost their homes and family, their sanity, yet had remained steadfastly loyal to the republic and the constitution.

"Thank you for coming admiral," said Gaian Valorum, Supreme Chancellor of the republic.

A human made with a clean shaven and aged face, he wore a black and gold uniform but lacked the build of a military man. He was flanked by human advisors, showing how the republic had fallen on some troubled times. Meetra remembered days when the 'trio' on the main podium consisted of members of different species.

"Ordinarily I would be managing the fleet, or overseeing operations in the border systems, both separatist groups have unmassed military forces, fleets, yet every day factories once known for producing war ships instead produce luxury liners, recruitment offices repurposed into education facilities, training camps into public parks," Carth explained. "It looks like progress from a distance," he muttered. "But there is progress and there is sacrifice, and the republic is sacrificing its own safety, disregarding the lives of so many whom have truly sacrificed for the republic."

His voice showed strength, and there were many voices whom agreed. But there were just as many whom remained silent. Valorum looked down at Carth, and Meetra could see the sympathy and understanding in his eyes.

"You have served the republic for many years Admiral Onasi, many would not be here if not for your sacrifice," he said.

"Debatable," said the Corellian senator.

"Yes, wasn't it Carth Onasi whom assisted Darth Revan in retaking the Star Forge, resulting in the deaths of Admiral Dodonna and Jedi Master Vandar?" asked the Duros senator.

"Admiral Onasi was betrayed, just as the republic itself was betrayed. Revan was not a true sith, but a pretender, drunk on the independence and respect he had gained from the Mandalorian war. The Starforge has disappeared, lost to the dark rim," Valorum explained.

"IT COULD STILL COME BACK!" the Shistavanen senator snarled.

"He's right, disarming ourselves is foolhardy, several of our people's migrant groups have gone missing, taken by slavers," the Twi'lek senator said.

"Your nomads knew the risks of exploring the outer rim, they only have themselves to blame!"

"What of the Jedi, what are they doing?"

"We're tired of the fighting, of the wars!"

"ORDER!" one of Valorum's aides yelled.

"Senate, please, I beseech you," Carth began, leaning against his podium. "Revan disappeared, yet his influence remains, raiders in the neutral zone, abductors in the outer rim, and on the borders of the unknown regions my ships have been hit by former Sith vessels. Reports across our territories indicate that a number of the abducted are force sensitive children, being groomed as we speak by former Korriban academy head Uthar Wynn, whom Revan secretly recruited into his service when he sought the Star map.

"Those raiders in the neutral zone are trying to provoke a war between us and the independent systems, and they are succeeding, we've barely prevented incidents in the past few cycles. The raiders are growing in numbers, if we disband our armies to appease the independent systems, we'll leave ourselves vulnerable to the raiders. The Jedi are not what they once were, they cannot protect us," Carth explained.

The chamber grew silent and Meetra saw the look of hope in Carth's eyes. He looked across each platform, measuring the doubt in each representative's eyes. As a gunslinger and a pilot, he had an eye for details as well as spatial awareness beyond the average person. In another life, Meetra pictured Carth being a Jedi. But his life was that of a military leader, desperately trying to ensure that the organisation he had dedicated his life to kept on going. In some ways, it made them quite alike.

"I appreciate the Admiral's stance, as well as his belief in keeping our borders defended, the supposed empire has its army of darkness, the separatists their droid army and the outer rim has its army of light. We must begin the preparation of an army of our own, the clone masters could build us such an army but it would result in a depression that would leave our people struggling," Valorum explained.

"Sir, at this point it would be irresponsible not to prepare ourselves for war," Carth said. "My experience with Revan taught me that one must never drop their guard, even if things seem fine!"

Meetra widened her eyes slightly, she sensed it in Carth. He truly had been betrayed by Revan. That man had considered the fallen Jedi to be a true friend. That made Revan's fall, the choice he made on that world even more tragic.

* * *

Naboo

Gold fighters in space, droids and armoured warriors on the fields. The force had always been strong with the people of Naboo. They maintained that perfect link with nature and technology, their cities never polluting the land and their economy prospering through their trade of their plasma and their link with the trade federation. A single system that could rival the republic, some called it. Through maintaining its military might, and encouraging tutelage of the force, it had become the 'ideal place'. The people of Naboo began to suspect that this place they lived in, if their king made the right choices, could become the next great empire. The Eternal Empire!

Cortosis and Beskarr were some of the toughest materials in the galaxy, capable of withstanding the plasma from a light sabre. But though the would be conquerors made their weapons to withstand the Jedi weapons, they lacked the duelling skills to adequately fight. Two brothers cut a path through the enemy army, all of them lacking any uniform to their clothes. One was the brother of light, the other, the brother of darkness. In perfect balance and synch they fought, the white garbed one slashing with his yellow sabre, his black garbed brother doing the same. Behind them, the royal red and black guards cut through with their force pikes and double bladed staves. They were some of the best melee fighters in the galaxy, and though they weren't considered Jedi, they had training in how to use the force.

Coming up behind the squad of red was the gold armoured BX series Battle droids and the human military. Men and women in red leather over yellow or blue robes. Prides of the alliance between the Naboo system and the confederacy of independent systems. The brothers cut through the warriors on the ground, whilst the gold and white Naboo fighters decimated the enemy ships. One fighter in particular weaved through the other fighters, shooting down one craft after another, launching photon torpedoes into the bridge of a command ship.

It was the sight shown to Lord Hoth and his lieutenants Valenthyne Farfalla and Pernicar. Lord Hoth stood taller than them, clad in an ornate chest plate, a blue cloak wrapped around his shoulders. He was a big man, his grizzled, bearded face reflecting his years of fighting experience, through the Mandalorian wars, the Jedi Civil War and the first Jedi purge and later reformation. Farfalla was a human and Bothan hybrid, his upper body and face that of a handsome, well kept human and his lower body a set of furry, cloven hooves. He dressed in fine armour and robes, much more elaborate than what Hoth wore. Even his hair was decorated with a jewelled circlet. Pernicar stood as the opposite to him, a human man as old as Hoth, dressed in simplistic brown robes, less like a Jedi and more like a priest.

In front of the three men, producing the holographic recording was a short man in a black robe with a high collar. His pale face and ginger hair were partly covered by the hood he wore. He was flanked by five people in red armour and robes, their bladed pikes held at ease. The diminutive man held a pose of confidence and dignity, putting the holographic emitter back in his pocket.

"There you see, our borders were breached, but we managed to drive them back," the man said.

"Tell me Prime Minister, how much blood stained the field of Naboo this time?" Hoth demanded.

"An unfortunate amount, but a massacre was not our desire!"

"Unlike the Gungans!"

"That is a part of our history we want to forget, even redeem ourselves for, it was the choices of a king that reigned a hundred years ago, a xenophobe who wanted every inch of Naboo for himself."

"But you can't deny Prime Minister that because of the genocide of the native people and the prioritisation of Naboo's military, you have become a system that even beat back the Sith invasion," Farfalla explained.

"True we did, but because of our unwillingness to compromise, we have been one of the few systems that the Chancellor has petitioned to have kicked from the republic," the man explained.

"There are concerns," Pernicar said.

"No one will forgive your people for the genocide of another," Hoth snarled.

The Prime Minister grit his teeth for a moment.

"Tell me lord Hoth, did you not recently state that across the galaxy, there were pockets of Sith and Rakatan colonies, the last survivors of their species. And did you not declare your intent to wipe them out. In fact, did you not go to the system of the former Star Forge, and attack the Rakatan tribes on the planet below?" he asked.

"The Rakatans are no better than animals, slaves to the dark side of the force, death is their only release and the Sith, they too must be wiped from existence so that the dark side can truly be eliminated," Hoth explained.

The Prime Minister squeezed his hand into a fist and looked away from Hoth.

"In this age where dark Jedi and crime bosses fancy themselves as war lords, it makes sense for independent systems to ally, hence our alliance with the confederacy. Tyrannus Dooku has been instrumental in the formation of a parliament, smaller than the republic senate, but voices are being heard, reforms are being made," he explained.

"Do you intend to form a New Republic?" Pernicar asked.

"The republic is dying, not from some threat from the outer rim, or a renegade Jedi, or some Sith artefact or plot, it is falling to ruin because of politics, politics done not in the best interest of the people. I like to think that despite our opposing beliefs, we want what is best for our people, for the galaxy as a whole," the Prime Minister explained.

"So you believe the old must be replaced by the new?" Hoth asked.

"Call it replaced if you want, but certain compromises must be made in order to improve a galaxy that stands on the precipice of ruin," the Prime Minister said.

"Compromise, there will be no compromise, the Army of light will protect all, find the evil that has corrupted this world and destroy it, if anyone gets in our way then they are our enemies. There is a darkness in Naboo Prime minister, bring it to heel, or we'll do it for you," Hoth explained.

The three Jedi turned and walked away from the Prime Minister, who looked up at the stars and smirked. For he knew that the darkness was closer than the army of light thought.

* * *

Closer, and far away, for on Korvis business continued for Torvan. He signed off on the import of many of his slaves, many he had bought to sell at a different price. In the sands of the slave pens, he watched his droid guard drag children away from their parents. Those parents whom fought were repaid with shock stick burns and bruises from metallic fists.

"Please, please don't take them, PLEASE!" Torvan covered his ears to blot out the shrieks of one mother, she had twins and apparently had lost two more children to the Crimson Dawn slavers.

So she was an extremely fertile woman, Torvan knew of Cerean and Theelin breeders whom would be interested in bidding. He'd part with some labourers, but his client was paying a high price for the children. Torvan always oversaw the transfer of his slaves, apparently the state of the children didn't matter but he wanted to see what he was parting with. Boys and girls, the demand was human, which meant the alien ones could be raised as servants for his house. Or the houses of other buyers.

'Make up your mind Torvan,' he chided himself.

It was a delicate business, and he had gotten a lot of competitors lately. As the droids took slaves from their cells, Number 13 sat against the wall, arms resting on his knees. His eyes were set on the ground, trying to ignore the duo of blue ghostly figures that stood either side of him.

"Disgusting, are you seriously going to watch this Amell?" said Mhairi, the Ferelden knight clad in her winged helm and heavy chainmail.

"He can't do a thing, as tragic as this is he'd only endanger those children by charging in," said Aedan Cousland, arms crossed over the Grey Warden scout armour he wore.

The dead heir of the former rulers of Highever huffed, looking away from the sight of slaves and down at Daylen. This time Daylen was looking ahead.

"Don't be a fool, what do you think is going to happen? You destroy those droids, rally the slaves and beat back the masters, you don't know a thing about this galaxy," Cousland explained.

"So he should do nothing?" Mhairi demanded.

"I'm not saying that at all, but he needs to be smart, smarter than he was before, what's the point of winning a battle if you lose half of your forces doing it?"

The ghosts faded as droids marched into Daylen's cell. He stood on their order and followed the other fighting fit slaves into the training pens. Looking at the wooden sword he was given, his eyes narrowed for a moment.

"I wouldn't," Soris said, patting Daylen's shoulder.

"I don't know, maybe he could if he hits them hard enough," Kinnon said.

The elf and mage exchanged looks as Daylen walked into the training area. The slaves were surrounded by high walls, fortified by electrified fencing and floating remotes. Both ghosts shook their heads and disappeared. The Twi'lek given the designation fourteen was partnered with Daylen. Whilst Daylen had been given a wooden sword, the Twi'lek had a type of edged staff, to mimic a Vibro-double blade.

"BEGIN!" Maximus yelled.

Those gathered listened to the drums, the crack of Maximus's whip and fought one another. He walked amongst the recruits and shouted out orders to adjust footing, their grips on their weapons. As much as the Mandalorian kept them in line, he also taught them how to fight with melee weapons.

"Forget all you know about blasters, in the arena such weapons offer no entertainment. Sword, axe, shock stick, spear, these are the weapons you will use in the arena. You will learn to block and dodge, or turn a cut into an advantage, or you will perish as nothing more than a five second thrill for the mob," Maximus explained.

Torvan stood at a balcony, watching the recruits. He spotted a Trandoshan handling a club well, a Mon Calamari adjusting to a wood trident (go figure, he thought) and a Nikto and Twi'lek evenly matched with swords. There were a few he knew he could turn into the next great contenders for the role of arena champion. Some however would only be good for dying, as he thought this he focused on Fourteen and Thirteen. Fourteen had his weapon at the ready, but Thirteen had yet to strike, or even so much as raise his sword. Maximus took notice of this and approached the duo, two droids at his side.

"Attack him Fourteen," Maximus commanded.

Fourteen looked nervously at the human slave, striking his arm. If it had been hard enough to hurt, then Daylen remained silent.

"Harder," Maximus said.

Again Fourteen struck Daylen's arm, with more force this time, leaving a red mark on his skin. But it still wasn't satisfying to Maximus, whom wanted a reaction from Daylen. The second strike was enough to make Daylen step to the side, forced to by the strength of the blow.

"Again," Maximus said.

Fourteen apologetically struck Daylen's cheek, moving his head from the force of it. But Daylen still stood, eyes empty, the grip on his weapon weak. He made Torvan shake his head when he cast the sword aside. Maximus unravelled his whip and gestured to Daylen's sword.

"Pick it up, or there will be pain," he said.

But Daylen ignored him, drawing a smirk from Torvan.

"Very well," Maximus electrified the whip and swung it.

It swiped across Fourteen's back, drawing a scream from the Twi'lek. The other pilgrims looked towards the torture, some glaring at Maximus, others glaring at Daylen. Daylen's eyes trembled, his knees shuffling. Maximus struck the Twi'lek again and again, looking at Daylen as he did it. It was as if the Mandalorian was saying 'this is your fault'.

"Damn it boy, pick up the weapon and do as he says, just for now," Knight-Commander Greagoir snarled at Daylen.

"PLEASE NO MORE!" Fourteen yelled.

Maximus brought the whip down again and Daylen took a step forward. He ran in front of the Twi'lek, brought his arms together and shielded him, leaving a bruise on his wrists. Daylen stood firm as Maximus struck him three times, and even more resolute when four more furious strikes hit his shoulders and legs.

'Like a shield he stands,' Torvan thought, leaning over the balcony and watching Daylen closely.

Maximus wrapped the whip around Daylen, trapping his arms. He brought the slave to his knees, surging electricity through his body. Daylen yelled defiantly, roared like an animal against the crackle of lightning. An element that lit up his eyes and sparked across the sand. He forced himself to stand, taking slow and aggressive steps towards Maximus. Both Torvan and the Mandalorian raised their eyebrows in shock. They both smiled though for very different reasons. Maximus twisted the whip, unwrapping it from Daylen. Then he delivered a hard kick to Daylen's chin. His lower right first molar struck the ground at the same time as his body, blood leaking from the corner of his mouth.

"Perhaps there is a fighter in you after all, and something more," Maximus mused, wrapping the whip around his arm.

'Such strength, in his eyes, in his stance, yes we definitely have someone formidable for the arena, with the right training,' Torvan thought.

"Rest for now, cherish the food and water you're given, for before this day is done you will each run the gauntlet," Maximus said.

Serving droids came into the practice area. They began giving out bowls of some kind of slop. The tired and broken slaves were too hungry to question what it was. Daylen knelt by Fourteen's side, only for a group of Twi'lek's to push him aside. They uttered what he presumed was a curse in their native language. Seeing that the man would be well cared for, Daylen walked to his cell and sat as he had earlier.

"You might want to take this opportunity to make some friends," Niall said to him.

Petra leant against the wall closest to the door and rolled her eyes.

"You summoned a little bit of lightning, next time you might want to go with fire," Jowan said, pacing around the cell.

"No not fire you idiot, that spreads, and lightning can get drawn to conductors," Petra said.

"You haven't seen Daylen use fire at his full potential Petra."

"I don't think magic is something you'll want to show off yet, plus there is the issue of mana, it can be very slow to recover without a potion," Niall explained.

"So no buffing spells," Jowan suggested.

"It won't change anything, he'll still drain his mana," Petra said.

"Oh, new friends," Niall clapped his hands before the mage trio faded.

They did this just as a blue skinned Twi'lek came in, three other Twi'lek's at his side.

"So, the human thinks he's too good to train?" the Twi'lek asked.

"This isn't the first time one of our own suffered for a human," said one of the others.

"Renton could have died because of him," the third one said.

The leader kicked at Daylen's hips, and the other two forced Daylen to stand. Two punched him across the face and stomach, and Daylen saw the fury in the blue skinned Twi'lek's eyes.

"That's enough," an authoritative voice spoke behind them.

They looked towards an orange skinned Twi'lek.

"Leave him be Saylew," the man said.

"Moorint, because of this man..."

"Look at where we are," the Twi'lek elder spoke plainly and severely. "We cannot be perfect, nor can we be foolish, this man at least tried to be the former, he took the hardest strikes for Renton. This is not what the Matriarch or your wife would have wanted."

"My wife is dead because Ranna led us to this, she is as much responsible for us being here as the slavers. I hope they rape her..." Saylew let out a yell as Daylen's head slammed into his.

"Don't you ever..." he seethed.

"So the human can talk," Saylew spat blood onto the sand, raising his fist.

"Enough!" another voice rang out.

They looked towards one of the pillars. A hunched man was standing there, his beard and part of his face the only thing visible from the ragged robes and hood he wore. He kept his hands half raised, fingers tense as he walked towards them.

"Take it from a man whom has survived his share of arenas, do not be eager to make enemies of one another, and he is also right, what you wish for on your Matriarch is not something that should be wished on anyone," the human man explained.

"Your wife would be ashamed if she heard you say such things," Moorint said.

"Damn you both," Saylew and his friends let go of Daylen, letting him fall back into a sitting position.

Moorint looked down at Daylen as the other Twi'lek's left. He mouthed a thank you and followed them, leaving Daylen with the elder, seemingly crippled human.

"Having fought in the arena before, I see in you perhaps what Maximus saw today. A man with a broken spirit in need of repair, a man whose spirit was once strong. But if fixed, perhaps," the man groaned as he sat beside Daylen. "Perhaps my boy, your fighting spirit will be stronger than ever. Numbers are all we have, but occasionally we prove worthy of a name, Vim Arena is mine, simplistic I know but suited for one whom buries the dead of the arena."

"I'm no one, from nowhere!" Daylen muttered.

Vim shook his head in disappointment, rising with a creak of his knees.

"Perhaps, perhaps," he whispered, smirking as he walked away.

"Is that it?" another voice asked Daylen.

He couldn't look at the ghost, didn't want to look at the ghost. A delicate hand touched his chin, forcing him to look up at the pale form of a red haired elf mage.

"Don't let this be the end Daylen," she said.

Training continued, Daylen serving as one part training dummy, another part example for Maximus to make of the other slaves. Torvan made arrangements, and surgeon droids arrived with what he needed to repair his broken merchandise. Or at least patch up acceptably for the matches they would soon have. The sound of surgical instruments filled the house as Torvan's droids took in slaves with amputated limbs and brought out new men and women, some literally rearmed. Daylen was one such, dragged bruised and uncaring to the gurney. The droid carrying out the surgery moved a syringe towards Daylen's neck, only for Maximus to grab it.

"No anaesthesia for this one," he said.

The droid didn't ask Daylen, likewise Daylen didn't object. His yells of agony echoed out of the house, drawing the attention of every slave. As the process continued, Daylen's cried became less painful and more defiant. When he passed out, he as injected with adrenaline to wake him up. Maximus even moved his face to see what the droid was doing, fusing metal to his stump, inputting circuitry. Daylen was dropped into his cell unconscious, the three fingers of his new hand twitching. Maximus looked down at him, prepared to walk away and dismiss his interest. But then he saw Daylen's body tense, and both his hands form fists.

'So could there still be some fighting spirit left in him?' he wondered.

The Mandalorian walked to Torvan's office, seeing the Nikto in a fury.

"DAMN THEM!" Torvan yelled, throwing the holo communicator against the wall.

"What is it?" Maximus asked.

"Kalla the Hutt, the bitch called in a favour to the arena board, apparently we'll be receiving a visit from the emperor and a representative of the dark brotherhood," Torvan said.

"Impossible, they can't spend time in the same room without trying to kill each other," Maximus said.

"The Dark Brotherhood representative will be hidden amongst the crowd, Krayt and his entourage however will be taking the VIP seat. I knew Kalla would try to find some way to ruin my plans, once again she flaunts her success, uses it to block the path of other fortune makers," Torvan explained.

"What is her plan?" Maximus asked.

"She intends to put her champions at the forefront of the event. The final stretch will be her seven best fighters against several of the cannon fodder, and guess whose slaves have been declared fodder?"

"No," Maximus groaned.

"Indeed, it seems your efforts are wasted," Torvan shook his head and batted aside some of the papers on his desk.

"Perhaps, we'll have to see," Maximus said.

He knew Kalla the Hutt's prized team. Though he did not care to remember their names. All except one, a human by the name of Rorcha, a man who mocked the name of Mandalore by wearing the armour. He wielded two Vibro-swords in combat. His allies in the arena would be a Gamorrean axe man, two humans adept with shock sticks and a vibro blade respectively. A Quarren with a net and trident, and two human hybrids of Zabrak and Twi'lek respectively. Though Rorcha was the strongest amongst them, they all possessed considerable skill alone. Together though they were considered the deadliest team, ideal recruits for any warlord.

"Something tells me though that we will be pleasantly surprised this year," Maximus said.

"Hopefully," Torvan said. "Because I can't afford another set back!"

The suns set and Daylen looked up at a blood red moon. He looked at his new prosthetic hand, imagining the hand he had before. Ahead of him he saw instead of the dust and rock of his cell, the grand majesty of the circle tower training hall. The magic coursing through his finger tips, forming intricate shapes.

_"Well done Daylen," _Jowan had said.

_"Keep this up and they might accept you for apprenticeship," _said Niall.

_"You'll at least be away from this place," _Petra had crossed her arms as she spoke.

The vision faded and he shook his head, smacking the back of it against the wall in frustration.

"Why, why me? What's the point?" he muttered.

"A broken will, as I said," he heard Vim's voice.

The hooded man lingered at his cell door, grinning from ear to ear as Daylen looked away.

"Don't stop the brooding on my account boy, there's a story in you I can tell, go on tell it, I heard little of interest in this boring place," Vim touched the bars and pressed his head against the door.

"Go away," Daylen said.

"By the force a man can't have as many scars as you and not have a story to tell," Vim said.

"Shut up," Daylen seethed. "Don't talk to me about the force!"

He slammed his new fist against the wall, gritting his teeth together. Vim stepped away from the door and put his hand to his chin.

"Maybe there's some fight left in you, there will have to be for tomorrow, remember what drove you to fight before boy. Because your life will depend on it!"

As Vim walked away, Daylen lowered his head and snarled.

"Who said anything about wanting to live?" he asked.

* * *

Talon lived for her master. For he was the embodiment of their order. Walking off their drop ship, they were welcomed by the Hutt slug.

"Welcome lord emperor," she said, daring to offer her hand to Lord Krayt.

The only reply he gave was a dismissive stare.

"We have prepared your spot on the balcony, the greatest view in the arena. Today we will be offering the finest of imported foods, company if you or your people demand it, and of course entertainment," the slug ranted and raved.

She could sense that Nihl shared her desires to open the Hutt's body down the middle. The only restraint was the calm of their master. Krayt had obscured most of his body with his cloak, but Talon knew that unlike the predominant black and red that was the uniform of their forces, Krayt wore the scaled armour of the creature that was native to his home world. He was not here for entertainment, but to be on the lookout for another acolyte. Yet already Talon could sense little in the way of force potential on this dismal planet. That wasn't to say it wasn't there, but that it didn't compare to her, and certainly not her master.

The arena was spectacular, and the crowd of vicious and bored colonists of the planet roared so loudly that it shook the arena. Criminals from the deepest depths of the underworld gathered here, even officials from the republic came, and if they weren't here they recorded the events through a proxy. Krayt sat on a throne that had been set up on the VIP balcony, looking down at the first sacrifices of the arena. To Kalla's disappointment he showed little interest in the opening matches. When her champions took to the arena, they cut a bloody path that was impressive for non force sensitives. But Talon knew it didn't even wake her master from his slumber, for that was what this world had driven him to.

* * *

Daylen looked up, hearing the roar of the crowd. People blood thirsty enough to enjoy the sight of people killing each other. It was just another reminder to him of why he had been wrong about people. He'd seen good, but there was just as much evil in it as well, and he grew tired of making excuses for it. The minutes became hours and Daylen saw scared men dragged into the arena. Some were lucky enough to come out, bloodied, but relieved that they had survived. He wasn't going to judge them, they wanted to live after all. Even if it was a hopeless life.

"You are so broody, can't you try to cheer up, have a little hope, come on Day you led a rebellion," Jowan said.

"To slaughter," Daylen retorted.

"Bring forth the next fighters, sacrifices or champions, let your blades decide," said the gladiator handler.

Torvan's droids pushed Daylen's group forward, he noticed amongst them was Moorint and Saylew and his men.

"Wait," Maximus blocked their path. "This one," he pointed at Daylen.

"What? You must be joking, the people demand a spectacle, one man against Kalla's champions," the handler had disbelief in his voice.

"Think of it as drawing the event out," Maximus said.

"Is this Torvan's latest project, or yours?"

"Mine," Maximus looked at the handler with a frown.

The handler gulped, filled with fear from the Mandalorian's glance alone. He grabbed his communicator and spoke to the announcer. In the observation booth of the arena, the announcer worked. He was a Troig, a two headed humanoid, though he lacked the fourth arm most of his species had. His left head spoke basic, and his more energetic second head spoke in Huttesse.

"Loyal viewers of the arena, people and guests of Korvin, now we present to you a special treat. Brought to you by the Renal trading company, we have the champion of Torvan Renal's house. Hailing from a galaxy far, far away, allow me to introduce the mysterious, the brooding, the defiant..." he listed off some things the handler told him to say, drawing out the introduction and dramatising it.

It got the crowd worked up, eager to see what kind of monster would emerge from the gates.

"THE RED EYED STRANGER!" the announcer yelled and the gates opened.

Daylen was pushed, sword in hand past the gate. As he walked on, medical droids walked in dragging bodies behind them. One came close to him, and Daylen spotted the lifeless face of the Twi'lek he had only known as Fourteen his arms cut off and a stab wound through his neck. He walked deeper into the arena, hearing the many languages and seeing many alien faces. Species he hadn't seen in Thedas, when the monsters occupied his world. The arena shook with yells of outrage and even laughter. Clearly he disappointed them, not that he cared.

On the VIP balcony, Talon saw her master open his eyes. He leant forward on his seat and crossed his fingers together. The red skinned Twi'lek focused on the scarred human, his stance indicated someone who didn't want to fight, even as Kalla's champions surrounded him. From one of the viewing vents, Moorint and some of the other slaves watched the red eyed stranger being circled by the fighters. The Gamorrean was the first to strike, punching Daylen in the gut and drawing saliva out of his mouth. He backed away, yet still stood. Then the human with the shock stick struck Daylen's back. He stumbled forward, tripping on the Zabrak hybrids foot. Bloodied sand covered Daylen's hair and he was quickly thrown onto his feet by the Quarren. They cleared the way for their apparent leader. He was wearing sleeveless Mandalorian crusader armour, the T shaped visor marked with a few notches for kills. Fingerless gloves and gauntlets covered his hands and a cape hung off of his shoulder. He held a Vibrosword in each hand, and the applause of the crowd grew as he elbowed Daylen in the face, drawing blood from his lip.

"Entertain them," Rorcha said, kicking Daylen in the stomach and knocking him to the floor. "Entertain them stranger, for they decide your fate!"

"KILL!"

"KILL!"

"KILL!"

He heard them chant and it infuriated him, how could a world be this cruel. Then again, his world was no different.

'Why did I try to save it?' he wondered.

"The same reason anyone tries to save their home," a voice whispered in his ear.

"Well at least you're not as pathetic as that Twi'lek we cut up, he never stopped begging," Rorcha rested his swords on his shoulders, walking away from Daylen.

He nodded to the Quarren, who began to swing his net around. Daylen stood up, hearing the people crying out, demanding his death. Some sounded desperate, as if this was the only good thing in their lives. Daylen looked up at the suns and closed his eyes, soon it would end, soon he could...

"Damn it Daylen, what was the point of us dying, if you give up here?"

He stepped to the side, dodging the Quarren's net, stepping out of its range. The arena grew silent, the champions themselves shocked from the sudden quick movement by their previously easy victim. Daylen clutched his heart, listening to the pounding, the pounding of a man who wanted to live. His hand shook, holding the sword he had been given, he realised that even as he was beaten he never let it go. He stopped shaking and his eyes narrowed at the champions.

"Fuck," he growled.

The human with the shock stick ran in first. As he swung his weapon down, Daylen sliced his wrists, then his thighs, bringing him to the ground. In a blur he had stabbed his sword through the man's mouth and viciously ripped it out. Moving towards his opponents, he passed fire through his blade. With a slash, he obscured the vision of the Quarren, making him miss his thrust. Turning to dodge the swing of the Gamorrean's axe, Daylen slashed the back of his legs, throwing his sword through the Quarren's throat. He raised his hands behind his head, grabbing the Gammorean's horns. With all his strength, he pulled the pig man up and slammed the back of his neck onto his shoulder. He felt his opponent's neck break. The human with the vibro blades approached alongside the Twi'lek hybrid. With a mind blast, Daylen dazed them and rushed forward. He pulled the sword out of the Quarren's chest, grabbed his trident and threw it through the Twi'lek hybrids head. The Zabrak hybrid twirled his Vibro-double blade, parrying a few of Daylen's strikes. But Daylen was vicious and relentless, hitting fast and hard and forcing the Zabrak back until he couldn't raise his defence in time, suffering a slash to his throat and then his face. As he fell, Daylen grabbed the man's double blade and turned, throwing it at the human with the duel Vibro-blades. Though he missed it made the human stumble, giving him a chance to move in and go on the offensive. He struck the man's blades with a flurry of blows, continually crossing them together. Elbowing the man in the face, Daylen grabbed the man's blade with his new hand and ripped it from his grip. Then, holding his sword in a reverse grip, he shoved it through the man's chest before stabbing him through the mouth with his own Vibro-blade.

"I knew it," Maximus said. "Yes, there is a fighter in that man, his spirit can be repaired!"

"Finally, a man WORTH KILLING!" Rorcha screamed in delight just like the crowd.

He ran at Daylen, swords at the ready. Strike, parry, feint, both circled one another with their swords clashing. As they fought, Rorcha noticed the man's sword glow, some kind of field surrounding it. Daylen locked his sword with Rorcha's, diverted them to the floor, then above Rorcha's head. Stepping to the side, Daylen knocked Rorcha off balance and with his sword alight, sliced through Rorcha's belly. The Mandalorian widened his eyes in shock, before Daylen took his head off with a final slash. Kalla looked at her champion's helmet rolling across the sands and gulped in fear, slithering slightly away from the Dark Jedi on instinct. Krayt however leant over the balcony, looking at the young man and rubbing his chin with intrigue.

"INCREDIBLE! THAT'S IT FOLKS! YOUR NEW CHAMPION THE RED EYED STRANGER!" the announcer yelled.

Daylen took in the roar of the crowd, their sudden shift towards seemingly supporting him. He looked up when he heard clapping. Krayt clapped his hands together, looking down at Daylen and smirking. Daylen's eyes widened as he looked at the objects dangling off of Krayt's belt. A hiss echoed in his ears, the twin red beams of a light sabre appeared in his mind's eyes. His knees shook and utter fury filled him. Flames began to spark around his arm as he looked up.

"Sith," he seethed. "SITH!" he roared.

His hand swung around, flames flying from them. The arena gasped, seeing the impossible sight. The fire ball crashed into the VIP balcony. Shooting fire into the ground, Daylen launched himself towards the balcony, a mana blade beginning to form in his hand. As soon as he landed, Daylen thrust his blade through the smoke. A red beam stopped the glowing red blade, Daylen grit his teeth together, looking into the eyes of Talon. She held her light sabre in a reverse style grip, keeping Daylen's mana sword inches away from Krayt's face.

"Bastard Sith, I'LL KILL YOU ALL!" Daylen screamed, overcome completely by the rage, flames and electricity rising from his body.

There was a sudden red flash, Nihl twirling his sabre staff and stepping around to Daylen's right. An object fell to the floor and Daylen's magic faded.

He froze, looking at his hand in shock. Gone was the anger, gone was the defiance. The memories of the Sith faded, where he was faded from his mind. His eyes remained locked on the appendage on the floor, the dry skin, the bitten nails, callused knuckles.

'No, it can't be,' Daylen thought.

His hand was, Daylen looked at the stump and stepped back in horror. The familiar sound of a force technique echoed through his ears. He heard nothing else as he was suddenly thrown from the balcony, slamming into the sand beneath him.

Next Episode 23: Courtly intrigue and plans

* * *

A shocking and tragic ending, well you'll have to wait for the chapter after next to find out what happens to Daylen.

Furthering the Spartacus homages, Vim I based facial features and voice wise on Liam McIntyre, whom as well as playing the title character, also provided face model and voice work for Taron Malicos of The Fallen Order (a Star Wars game I still have yet to play :)

Next time we go back to Thedas, with a look at the Imperial occupied territories through the eyes of Dorian Pavus.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars or Dragon Age

First chapter featuring Dorian, who will be a main perspective character for the majority of the fic. Plus the return of another Origins character and the introduction of an OC son of Perrin Thrennhold, his appearance based on Kureto Hiragi of Owari No Seraph.

* * *

Dragon Wars: Force of Others

Episode 23: Courtly Intrigue and plans

Tevinter was the capital of the Sith's occupation of Thedas, to some, whilst to others it was as it had always been. To Dorian, it was a mix of the greatest and worst places on the planet. A great empire had been forged, yet it had done so from what the elves left behind. The dread wolf destroyed the most powerful beings in Thedas, and Tevinter mages rose in their place. Using the teachings of the elves, they built their empire, taking slaves and using them as the builders. For every brilliant thing, something horrific was done to make way for it. Archon Hessarian himself killed the rebel Andraste out of mercy, but recognising the power of her religion, he converted to the Chant of light and from there on formed the Circle of Magi, laying the foundations of the Chantry as Thedas knew it. Or perhaps Hessarian truly did hear the voice of the Maker, or he simply believed in the original chant and wished to redeem the Imperium somewhat by gradually replacing worship of the old gods with the Maker. One of Dorian's tutors had told him after all that many of the truths people cling to depended greatly on their point of view. Dorian appreciated that kind of teaching, and it had guided him to understand others.

Because to many elves, the Tevinter Imperium were the worst culprits of the abuse of their people, their enslavement and systematic destruction of their history and culture. To many in the Qun, they were what was wrong with 'Bas' society, having put mages at risk of possession in charge of rule, and building their cities and culture off of the backs of slaves that had been forced to follow purposes they were ill suited to. The Southerners believed that the people of Tevinter were embodiments of evil whom practiced dark arts, brought the Blight and Darkspawn into the world, and worst supposed the ascension of the empire that destroyed their previous way of life. Even Dorian himself admitted that he was very much a person painted by his biases.

His earliest memory was of seeing slaves brought off of a Sith cargo ship. And at the time it didn't bother him, because it didn't seem to bother anyone else. The woman whom read him bed time stories in place of his mother was a slave, the elf man who would bake him delicious cakes was a slave, his first friends were the children of slaves. He attended the circle of magi, learnt about the dangers and advantages of blood magic and demonic chaining. At parties he would see the brutality of duels between Sith lords and their apprentices, and shrug it off as just another implementation of the rule of two. Dorian Pavus wanted to consider himself a good man despite these things, and he wanted to believe that the Imperium was full of good men and women whom avoided temptation as much as any Southerner did. If anything, from his point of view they were better than Orlais or Ferelden, as they lived in a place rife with corruption.

The young man tilted his head back, one of his Twi'lek groomers running a straight razor across his thin hairs. Her hand was calm, for she didn't fear her master. The Pavus's did not use fear, they treated their slaves as servants and the people under their protection. Indeed, Dorian learnt of bravery from his father, whom protected their slaves from fellow Magister and Sith lord alike. He walked down the steps of their front room and saw his father Halward dressed in his robes alongside his former Mentor Gereon Alexius, in the robes of the Venatori. They were a rising cult within Thedas, dismissed by the empire as intellectuals seeking the false rumours of a Darkspawn culture. Members of the group though did have access to the Empire's archaeological foundation.

"Dorian, still haven't shaved the moustache I see," Alexius shook his head and chuckled.

"I quite like it," Dorian said.

"It does age you son!"

"People will never mistake us for brother's father, I'm too handsome."

"You get it from someone," Halward smirked.

They climbed into the carriage, some things of the old age were kept and a lavish carriage was a luxury to turn up at for events. Well bred horses drew the carriage, driven by a loyal elf servant of House Pavus. Which meant that the three men could discuss their perspectives without fear of anyone learning of them.

"Felix found something in the Eastern territories, we reported to the foundation that it was a Darkspawn forge, not something the Sith are interested in," Alexius explained.

"But what was it really?" Dorian asked.

"Something older, something I believe Dorothea's hand will be interested in seeking," Alexius said.

"Ancient technology?" Halward asked.

"Felix wasn't entirely sure, he had to summon a perfect storm though to beat back automated defences, so it's certainly something no one wanted found by people who didn't have access."

"Very good Alexius, we'll have to inform our mutual friends in the South, I heard they recently attacked an off world mining facility, liberating some minerals and slaves," Halward explained.

"An impressive but dangerous course of action, let us hope it pays off for them," Alexius said.

The driver tapped the surface of the carriage, signalling that they were approaching the event. Coming to a halt at a mansion, the three men exited the carriage and walked down a red carpet. Security troopers marched on the grounds, and invited guests smiled for camera droids. Dorian scanned the crowd of people no doubt paid or threatened to cheer the arrival of the valued contributors of the empire's cause in Thedas. Upon entering the mansion, they were bombarded by the sight of incredible holographic images of super nova's bursting on the floor and space whales moving across the ceiling. A singer let out an enchanting melody, and Bith and Twi'lek servants held plates of fine food and drinks.

"What was this party for again? Thank you," Dorian smiled charmingly at a Twi'lek girl he took a glass of wine from.

"Prime Minister Tarkin recently announced the formation of the Thedas defence force, I believe he has put Perrin Threnhold in charge of it," Halward said.

"Threnhold, wasn't he..."

"Yes, former ruler of Kirkwall before the Sith arrived, one of the first to surrender to them, worked his way up through the military as opposed to taking a token governorship," Alexius explained.

"Yes, from what I heard he actually achieved the rank of captain," Dorian said.

"He's now Admiral Thrennhold, but I would have thought he wouldn't be here, too busy overseeing the construction of his fleet," Halward explained.

"Perhaps we should ask the Prime Minister himself," Alexius muttered.

They looked towards Minister Tarkin, a short man with a perfect military poise. His cheeks though were gaunt, and though he spoke to others politely, Dorian knew the man had little regard for 'underdeveloped' worlds like Thedas. He was a man who served the empire, and truly believed that it was working to perfect the galaxy.

"Prime Minister," the trio bowed their heads as the man approached.

"Magister Pavus, Alexius, I believe you are an Altus correct?" Tarkin asked as he looked at Dorian.

"Correct Prime Minister, are you enjoying the evening?" Dorian asked.

"The occasional celebration of the empire's achievements assists in morale. Once the defence fleet is fully assembled we will have a more formal military parade," Tarkin explained.

"Will the new Admiral be present for that?" Alexius asked.

"Admiral Thrennhold is overseeing construction of the fleet, his time at the Imperial academy gave him many ideas on how to improve the military forces under his command," a young man spoke from behind Tarkin.

He was a tall individual, dark haired and wearing a black uniform with white gloves, red highlights and two gold medals on the breast of his coat. From what Dorian saw of the young man, he was quite muscular, definitely the kind of muscle a melee fighter would gain. The curved sword on his belt was a giveaway too.

"Captain," Alexius looked at the man in confusion, knowing his rank from the bars on his shoulder, but little else.

"Thrennhold, Fausten Thrennhold, at your service Magisters," the young man bowed his head.

"Fausten?"

"I was named after a rival of my father's."

"You are Admiral Thrennhold's son?"

"Adopted son yes, I have been in service to the Imperial army off world, I was awarded a captain rank after a battle in the border territories," Fausten explained.

"HA!" a Sith lord threw his head back and looked at Fausten in disgust.

The four military officers around him laughed too. Fausten remained silent, unbothered by the fact people were looking at him with amused expressions.

"I wonder which Sith lord came to favour you," the lord chuckled.

"It wasn't a Sith Lord, an apprentice actually, all I know is that I fought alongside him, a few days later he personally requested me to captain his ship," Fausten explained.

"Which fool wanted the caveman?" the Sith Lord asked and his entourage laughed.

"I believe his name was Malgus!"

The Sith Lord and the other military men suddenly grew silent, looking at Fausten with very different eyes. Fearful, sympathetic, Dorian had trouble telling, all he knew was that they suddenly had very different opinions about Fausten Thrennhold's military career and abilities.

* * *

Ferelden borders

Alistair and his party had fled the borders of Ferelden with Loghain's company. He split the rebellion into three groups, one led by Anora and the other Eamon. The bulk of the prisoners they had freed and taken went with their group. Chantry priests (wearing the original robes, not Imperial red and black) gave out food to the non-combatants first. The Northern men caused a commotion when they tried to take the food by first.

"We eat first!" the ring leader said.

A short fight broke out, during which Oghren head butted one of the taller men in the crotch and Sten grappled with another. They stopped fighting over the food however when the Wookie leader let out a great howl of rage. She then helped the priests give out the rest of the rations. Alistair took the bowl of slop for one specific prisoner. His half brother, former king Cailan, technically deposed by his own people. The now dirty haired, one armed man gave off the impression of a broken man.

"Here," Alistair placed the bowl by his bound legs.

"Give it to someone else," Cailan said.

"I'm sorry it's not fine dining," Alistair huffed, leaning against the wall and eating his protein bar. "They made this from cockroaches you know," he said with his mouth half full. "I've seen the machines at work, in between Knight-Trooper training I had a choice between sanitation or cleaning the food synthesisers. Big machines that mixed ingredients together. Crickets, cockroaches, beetles, I realised then that the Empire feeds the downtrodden bugs, mashed together into a bland but cheap and sustainable bar. I was both disgusted and impressed, a lot of nutrients for a low cost."

Cailan remained silent, the slop bubbling in front of him. His once tanned skin was pale and his cheeks gaunt from malnutrition. In the past, Loghain had some men forced water and bread down the former king's throat. There came a point however when Loghain just stopped caring and focused on other matters.

"I'd imagine you're used to better food, pies, casseroles, that blue milk stuff, never actually tried that, what is it like?" Alistair asked.

He finished his ration and crossed his arms, shaking his head in dismay.

"Not a lot of people would care if you starved yourself to death," he said.

Cailan nodded his head, bangs of his hair hanging over his eyes, dark rings had formed from a lack of sleep.

"You don't have military Intel, and the empire doesn't really care about you, so we'll get no ransom and we can't trade you for anyone," Alistair stated.

"Then why am I alive?" Cailan asked.

"Ah so you do talk, finally decided to grace the bastard with a statement, a grunt doesn't really count," Alistair said.

"Leave me alone!"

"Oh but we're getting on so well, I was already thinking of naming one of my children after you, 'the pathetic one'."

"What do you want?" Cailan demanded.

"What do you want?" Alistair retorted, turning to Cailan fully and looking down at him. "Do you want to go back to pretending you were a hero? Because that was never true. That the empire is improving things? Maybe, but at what cost? And does that justify its treatment of people? Why should people be grateful when for every advancement and grand achievement there's also untold abuse and barbarism elsewhere?"

"Our world was...imperfect," Cailan coughed, a small tear falling down his cheek.

"Yes it was, and yes in some ways it did get better, but your best friends blew an entire region apart to test a new toy, and they did the same to our home. Because their response to dissent was 'blow it all up', a very productive way of getting rid of your problems," Alistair explained.

"I know, I was the king of Ferelden, I was supposed to protect it, but you...you led them," Cailan looked up at Alistair and he saw the same awe in his half brother's eyes as he once had.

The awe he had when he thought that he was serving the greater good, when he thought the empire was truly righteous. He shook his head and walked away.

"I'm just the bastard of a king, not a prince, and certainly not a king," he muttered.

He kept walking until he crossed paths with Loghain's lieutenant Cathrien.

"Loghain wants to see you," she said.

They went outside of the cave that the rebels were staying in, taking a short path into the woods. Some of the men sat on the border, using scan guns or spy glasses, or just their eyes too look out for enemies. The sight reminded Alistair that they were a army that had no uniform, no permanent source of equipment and were using whatever they could get their hands on. When he saw Leliana standing at a camp fire with Loghain and some of his men, he knew she had probably just tried to convince him of pursuing the artefacts of the ancients.

"You all fought well a few days ago, good job hitting the supply lines," Loghain said.

"Go to the local towns, undercover, and learn what you can about the people's perception, try to get some more food, hunt whatever's available in the woods or steal from the crops. Take however many people you'll need and meet us at the Anderfells border," he explained.

"Lord Loghain, with respect I think you could assign that kind of work to someone else, and it wouldn't be right to steal from honest farmers," Leliana said.

"An army needs food to eat, during the Orlesian occupation Maric and I got it where we could, if people didn't donate then we regrettably stole it, it meant there was a season they didn't make any money but our people got to eat and be strong for the next battle," Loghain explained.

"I understand," Alistair said before Leliana could speak.

"My lord, when you formed the alliance, you said that we would be seeking the lost technology, that we would be looking for a way to tip the balance. Or was that a lie for morale?" Leliana asked.

"Watch your tongue," Cathrien snarled.

"Enough, none of us are going to do anything unless we get something to eat first. For all their strength, the Wookies are a big drain on our rations too, and the Northerners are too aggressive, if I send any of them to secure food, we'll have bloody fields. I'm trusting this to you two," Loghain looked up at Leliana and Alistair, the latter of whom nodded his head.

"Secure food first, and then we can get to the real work," he said. "Is there anything else?"

"There is in fact, during the battle for Ferelden, you used the force to take control of two dragons," Loghain said.

"Is there anything left of Ferelden where dragon's could be?" Alistair asked.

"And island off of the Storm Coast, apparently there was a Vinsomer there," Cathrien said.

"We have need of its power, and if at all possible, I want you both to try and teach others how to use it," Loghain said.

"The two of us barely know much about the force ourselves, we can't just use it like that!" Leliana waved her hand as she spoke.

"I could teach you!"

Cathrien drew her sword and Leliana pulled out her A180 blaster pistol. A figure stood by one of the trees, he had long, grey, unkempt hair and a messy beard. He was wearing black trousers with brown boots, pads of armour had been attached to the shins of the boots. Over his brown and white shirt, he wore a green and purple robe, a belt on his waist attached a trio of scrolls to his hip. Pads were on his elbows, and purple guards rested on his shoulders. In his left hand he held a staff, a green jewel glowed between the shaft and the pronged tip of the staff.

"Irving," Leliana said with respect in her voice.

"You only recently got your magic back, and it is very different from the Force," Loghain said, looking at Irving sceptically.

"I can provide them with a basis, an understanding of the force, and methods to use it as a mage would use mana. Everything else they'll be able to figure out on their own, and I've solved our water issue," Irving stabbed his staff into the ground and held out his hands.

Fire glowed in his left, and ice shivered in his right. He put both hands together, and like a tap water flowed from out of his hands, fire melting ice.

"I've already had the young apprentices amongst the group fill canteens and jars," he said.

"Thank you Irving," Leliana bowed her head respectfully.

"Actually, the idea was Daylen's, he always said mages could provide water if they were allowed to."

A sullen look suddenly crossed the man's face and Leliana touched her heart in sympathy. He had been Daylen's teacher, before the Sith made him tranquil in an attempt to anger Daylen. When the mages of the Ferelden circle attacked a Star Destroyer, and a super weapon of the Sith, Daylen used the force to sense what was happening in the battle. Feeling the deaths of his closest friends pushed Daylen to unleash a powerful force wave. That wave had the affect of healing Irving's tranquillity, erasing the brand from his forehead, restoring his emotions and his connection with the fade. Despite telling everyone that Daylen had died with the other mages, Irving did not believe it, Leliana could sense that much from him.

"And if I may be so bold Loghain, there is truth to what Leliana says, Alistair is too respectful to say so himself but he also believes that their priority should be finding the lost secrets," Irving explained.

"What do we know?" Loghain asked, rubbing his eyebrows in frustration.

"Dorethea recently contacted me, a Tevinter cult was able to find a door in the Deep roads, it had some form of automated defence system," as Leliana spoke, an orange gauntlet of energy covered her hand. "This key unlocked the information cache we unlocked after the battle of Ferelden, who knows what we'll find at this new one, more information, or perhaps weapons."

"It's all well and good hitting supply lines and spying, but if we don't do something, we'll lose our relevance, that's why we need to recover our strength and carry out a new operation. The Winter Palace, with elven anger over the destruction of the Dales so high, we'll have ample motivation for the recruits we have and the recruits we'll gain. This operation would also be particularly important because we would be working with the Orlesian resistance," Loghain explained.

"Led by Gaspard De Chalons, I see, a hero of Ferelden, and a hero of Orlais, two nations that were once enemies working together against the Sith," Leliana mused.

"We seize a military target, and as you presume bard yes, we would be showing the other nations that we can work together to achieve a mutual goal," Loghain said.

"I didn't expect you to put your pride aside," Irving said.

"Fuck my pride!"

The three Fereldans widened their eyes slightly at Loghain's tone and stance. He stood up and turned away from the fire.

"I've seen worse than the Orlesians, that's not to say I've forgiven them. But in this war, we must make allies, even if it goes against our traditions," he explained.

Irving nodded his head in agreement. Alistair bowed his head and walked away, Leliana following close behind him.

"Food Alistair, we could be getting weapons," Leliana said.

"We reached a compromise Leliana, the people under our care need supplies more than weapons, so let's get Zevran, Oghren and Sten and start getting to work," Alistair explained.

"Wait for me you two, my knees aren't quite what they were," Irving called to them, following behind, a smile on his face and his head held high.

* * *

Minrathos

Once a long time ago, Dorian thought that the Sith had changed very little about court. Then his father reminded him of days past, of the difference between Tevinter back then, and Tevinter now. On the surface, the Sith court seemed very similar, people smiling and laughing, drinking exotic beverages whilst discussing trade deals and whispering of plots against rivals and ways of gaining prestige. But just underneath, Dorian could sense the difference. It had nothing to do with any force sensitivity, Dorian's force potential was considered low at the academy. His father barred him from any kind of military service beyond relief work. For underneath the smiles and plotting of a Sith court, there was something truly disturbingly unnatural about their intrigue. In fact, the Dark side was a pathway to abilities most would consider unnatural.

Dorian watched him walk through the crowds of the people. A Sith lord, older than any human man should be. Study of the dark side had kept him alive, hatred kept him alive, and probably made him stronger than any young man. Yet, the Sith Lord was a grotesque monster physically. His skin was deathly pale, sagging at his cheeks, multiple wrinkled rings decorated the black orbs around his eyes, eyes that flared between yellow and orange. Burning, frightful eyes that made Dorian shiver. Dorian considered himself a tolerant individual, but he saw only evil in eyes like that.

"Is everything alright Dorian?" Halward asked.

"Yes father, my attention was drawn elsewhere that's all," Dorian said.

"Careful where your eyes wander Dorian," Alexius whispered to his former pupil.

"So Magister Pavus, when will we expect your son to be taking up more responsibilities at court?" one of the other Magisters asked.

Magister Danarius, he was wearing red and black robes with silver and gold armour. Halward often spoke of him and the vile treatment of his slaves. Before he was noticed by the empire, he carried out an outdated and barbaric tradition. He had the strongest males of his slaves compete against one another, the last survivor would be awarded the 'honour' of having Lyrium infused with their body. The method was similar to the way Dalish elves tattooed their faces, though it extended to other parts of the body. Dorian had heard it was an extremely painful process that could often affect the mind of the person undergoing it. An elf was the last person to take part in the competition, and had spent some time as Danarius's bodyguard before he apparently escaped. Danarius was then inducted into the Sith research division.

"Two legions of lyrium infused soldiers were produced this last year, ready to be deployed to battlefields in the border worlds of the empire," Danarius boasted, drinking the blood red wine imported from another world.

"Two legions, I know of how much lyrium gets exported off world Magister Danarius, even if enough was put aside where would one get the numbers, surely they're not volunteers," Alexius explained.

Danarius smirked and had his bodyguard, a tall Devaronian pour him another glass.

"There is a synthetic form of lyrium," he said.

"Impossible, if the empire had figured out a way to create their own lyrium, what use would they have for us?" Dorian asked.

"Every person in this room knows the other valuable resource our world offers young Pavus, besides synthetic lyrium is inferior to pure lyrium. As for the numbers, the empire has resources besides recruitment and slavery, tell me, what do any of you know of cloning?"

Neither could tell if the man was joking. Suddenly, they were drawn to the sound of goblets and cups clattering to the ground. A few camera droids floated around the ruckus. Two Sith acolytes were glaring at Fausten, the young man standing to attention, despite a red light sabre being pointed at his face.

"I meant no disrespect," he said.

"It doesn't matter what was meant, you made your opinion quite clear," the one with their sabre pointed at him said.

"What is the meaning of this?" Tarkin demanded.

"Stay back Tarkin, this is beyond you, for we are Sith, masters of the force," the second acolyte ran a surge of force lightning through his finger tips.

"I was simply raising a point that use of the force was not a guarantee of victory, if an opposing faction has ..."

"You truly believe the mediocre dullards of the galaxy can match the power of the force, of the Sith?" the first acolyte demanded.

Fausten let out a sigh, his hand slowly going to the hilt of his sword.

"I acknowledge that I am a simple captain, however, considering this is simply an interpersonal debate, you have no grounds to attack me, if you both continue then I will be forced to defend myself," he said.

The two Sith looked at one another, before laughing. A few of the other Sith in the room laughed as well, rolling their heads back or clutching their sides. Suddenly, the two Sith ignited their sabres. Fausten moved his arm, drawing his sword and cutting through the first Sith's sword wrist just as he ignited his sabre. He then ducked, avoiding the second Sith's clumsy swing. With a swing of his own sword, Fausten beheaded the man, the head rolling like a statue at Tarkin's feet.

"What is the meaning of this?"he demanded.

Fausten flicked the blood off of his blade and sheathed it. He reached into his coat pocket and removed a Holo communicator. Clicking the side of it, the image of an officer appeared.

"Captain, we've received a communication, to be handled with discretion," the officer said.

"Very well," Fausten said.

He put the communicator back into his pocket and walked past Tarkin. The shorter man grit his teeth together, looking to the other Sith lords around him. They were no longer laughing, in fact, some seemed impressed. Those local to Thedas regarded Fausten with pride. He had shown the Sith overlords that despite their use of the force and the amazing destructive potential of the light sabres, warriors of Thedas had trained with the sword as well. Dorian followed the man, winking to his father as he passed him.

"Captain Thrennhold," Dorian called to him.

"Yes Lord Pavus," Fausten turned to him respectfully.

"Despite my father's insistence of avoiding official military service, I am well trained in the application of magic to combat," Dorian explained.

"Yes, I believe you were the top of your class in staff kata, very well, I would be honoured to have you accompany me," Fausten said.

"Thank you," Dorian grinned as he scratched his hair. "To be honest, I wasn't expecting you to say yes."

"We don't have any mages in our unit, the Thedas defence force is thought of as a joke," Fausten stated as he and Dorian walked out of the manor and along its grounds.

Droid remotes and cameras avoided their path, as Dorian recalled it was the direction of the shuttle pad.

"Mud troopers is the non official designation of our military force, I petitioned for some mages, but was unfortunately refused by the Archon," Fausten explained.

"What does happen to all the mages recruits? I've heard some are inducted into Sith academies, to be taught the ways of the Force," Dorian shivered mockingly.

"The force is very real, and very powerful Pavus, perhaps you'll see it in action soon," Fausten said.

They got closer and closer to a Sith shuttle, where a Twi'lek in an officer's uniform waited.

"Keevan, this is Dorian Pavus, he'll be joining us in our mission, get him an Acolyte's armour and a staff," Fausten said.

"Yes sir!"

Dorian took one last look at the ground. He had just realised he had volunteered to go into space. It made him beam on the inside, he would be the first member of his family to leave the planet.

'Let's see what the Thedas 'Defence' force is up to,' he thought as he stepped onto the ship.

* * *

Alistair looked through the scope, at the stars, seeing ships take off. He walked to the side of the cart, helping Sten help the donkey push it. Leliana carried behind her a wheelbarrow with two sacks of grain in it, covered by a few blankets. It had been her idea to raid the farms under cover of night, hitting a few patches through stealth and taking what the rebellion would need. No violence, no confrontation, though Zevran and Oghren apparently got shot at by an archer. They managed to get away though with a barrel of ale and a goat. Irving though had yet to come back, and Alistair wondered if they had made a mistake bringing the old man along.

"Is everything all right?" Leliana asked him.

"I don't feel much like a hero," he said.

"We're rebels, not heroes," Zevran said.

"You know what I mean," Alistair groaned.

"I do," Leliana nodded her head. "I've made my mistakes, done things for the resistance I wasn't proud of, this however isn't one of them."

"How can you say that Leliana?" Alistair asked.

"You would have preferred asking them? Well here's the dilemma, if they refuse then we may come to blows, or they would report us to the local imperial forces. Then there's the issue if they accept, they become rebel sympathisers, targets of the imperial forces. Until we have the strength to protect everyone, we may have to be the villains for a little bit. It isn't right, and it isn't what he would have wanted, but it is what it is," Leliana explained.

Alistair lowered his head and let out a deep sigh, he was wide awake yet felt tired. They came to a hilltop, drawing their weapons when they saw a cloaked figure waiting for them.

"Well, is that anyway to welcome an elder?" Irving asked.

"Damn you old man, lurking like that," Oghren grumbled.

"What did you get?" Leliana asked, noting how Irving wasn't carrying anything heavy.

He produced from his cloak a bowl.

"Seeds, the most valuable thing for the future," Irving said.

"We were busting our asses to get food and he gets fucking seeds," Oghren stormed off, cursing and throwing his arms about.

"Seeds," Leliana looked at the bowl sceptically.

"Turnips, cabbages, potatoes and carrots," Irving smiled despite the shake of Alistair's head.

"For the future," Sten said.

"The future," Leliana rolled her eyes, then corrected herself. "For the future," she looked at Irving with an apologetic look.

"For the future," Alistair slowly nodded his head.

They would have a home base in the future, and they needed seeds to grow their own food. Irving's first lesson to them, patience, care and perseverance were needed to ensure that the rebellion would grow.

Next Episode 24: 13 the broken

* * *

Hope everyone enjoyed the chapter. Next time we return to a galaxy far, far away.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars or Dragon Age

This chapter introduces the main Jedi protagonists. Plus some mature scenes (though tame in comparison to what else is out there :) but not explicit so it still falls into the T-rating I think.

* * *

Dragon Wars: The Force of Others

Episode 24: 13 the broken

Yavin-4

Fourth moon of Yavin, a mostly forest environment, riddled with temples from the days of the ancient Jedi. Strong in both aspects of the force, it was an ideal place for the home base of the Jedi service corps, and the location of the Jedi order's second academy. Deep into the forest, through obstacle courses and natural cave formations a man sat cross legged on a rock. He was dressed in black and brown robes worn over a white shirt. His greying beard and short hair were well kept and recently cut. A glove covered his right hand, which he rested like his other hand on his knees. He blew, a deep peaceful breath of content.

"The force is with me," he whispered.

As he meditated, a leaf drifted around his nose, making it twitch and him sniff.

"Itchy nose," he blew the leaf aside and sighed in content again. "The force is with me," he repeated his mantra again.

There was a rustling through the trees as round remotes flew out.

"Now what," he let out an exasperated grunt.

The remotes circled around him, their movement speed increasing. Suddenly, the man moved, missing several blaster shots. They were not designed to scorch, leaving no mark on the rock. The man fell between the remotes, shifting the direction of two with his hands, and another with his foot, launching them into others. He landed in a cross legged position, the bushes rustling behind him. A glowing yellow pole was swung through the trees, aiming for the back of his head. He tilted his head, smoothly dodging the strike. Immediately after dodging the strike, a Zabrak girl came down from the trees, drawing a quarter staff from her waist. She thrust it towards him, only for him to weave between the staff, stepping to the side and knocking her through the bushes into the human boy hiding in them.

"OW, watch it Sayla," the human said.

"You watch it Kaine," she retorted.

Their target then stepped in front of them, pushing them across the dirt with a simple thrust of his hand. He had his eyes closed throughout the encounter, keeping them closed even as a Kel-Dor boy came up behind him. The Kel-Dor youth aimed a fist towards his mid section, only for his hand to be grabbed and for him to be thrown onto the two youths. Once the encounter was over, the man put his hands behind his back and opened his blue eyes.

"A good try my students, but better luck next time, out of all of you Tiko had the most success, come out Tiko, well done," he said, turning to the rocks where a Rodian teen stood, several remotes floating around him.

"A tactic fit for a coward," Kaine huffed.

"Tiko isn't a coward," the Keldor said.

"You are correct Jay-Den, there are many ways to fight, but remember Tiko, when your fellow Jedi rush out into battle, it won't be right to simply let them be," the man said.

"Yes Master Klue," Tiko said.

"But well done each of you, do not be disconcerted, failure is a teacher as well, I myself failed the trials a few times," Jedi knight and Service corps master Klue said.

A reformist of the Jedi order alongside Meetra Surik, he refused a spot on the Jedi council in order to teach the youths dismissed by the Jedi order for training. He also worked within communities in a more practical way than others of the Jedi order did. Whilst Jedi from Coruscant and Typhon rarely ventured into the Outer Rim, Klue and his service corps often actively went into the outer rim, seeking the down trodden, investigating and fighting crime syndicates.

"Now I want you each to run the course before we head back," he said and the four youths groaned.

He pulled a helmet into his hand, it had a visor painted over, meaning whoever would wear it would have their vision blocked. Blinding oneself was often something Jedi did to train themselves in using the force. By blocking their vision, they were putting their trust in the force and relying on their other senses, not hearing but instincts. Klue had set up a course, whilst blocking the shots of a remote with their tech blade, his students had to run across the forest, run across a log over a chasm (actually a six foot drop) jump up three rock platforms, swing from one tree branch to a ribbon they had to grab, jump across the chasm and then run back to their starting position.

As each of his students ran the course, Klue thought of what made each of them unique. Kaine, a human from Coruscant's slums. He had been an exceptional pick pocket in the capital, leading Jedi Seeker Mira to believe he was force sensitive. She brought him first to the training centre on Typhon. Kaine though lacked a high midichlorian count, and proved to have more difficulty than even the younger students in using the force to enhance his senses and move objects. But in Klue's opinion it wasn't all about the rocks. Mira sent Kaine to Klue, and Klue encouraged Kaine's other talents. Force speed and stealth were some of the techniques Kaine excelled with, matching his upbringing as a thief.

Sayla, a human and Zabrak hybrid, her parents maintained a happy marriage and took up moisture farming on one of the Outer Rim worlds, Arvala 7. Brianna the Echani Handmaiden and Jedi battle master once protected Sayla and her family from a band of mercenaries. Drawn to Brianna's skill in a fight, Sayla was inspired and was practically begging Brianna to take her. Her parents had three other children, and though they had their suspicions about the order, they agreed that Sayla could seek a new life with the Jedi. Unfortunately she didn't pass the initial trials, and proved lax in the theory and study aspects of the Jedi texts. She did however have a good grasp on staff fighting.

Tiko, he grew up on the Rodian home world and despite his parents being botanists, Tiko became a natural mechanic and engineer. Jedi disciple Mical found him in what Tiko described as a boring encounter in which he noticed Tiko altering the state of a droid through a hand gesture. Whatever feat he performed wasn't one Tiko was able to repeat when it came to testing however. He went to Yavin and showed his technical genius. He also showed that he was quiet, shy and sometimes went out of his way to spend more time with droids than people. That wasn't to say though that he was anti-social, Klue considered him gentle and caring, not weak.

Jay-Den, often called Jay by his friends (sometimes misspelt as Jayden). Klue had taken him in himself, discovering him on a Keldor colony world ravaged by the Army of light and the Dark Brotherhood. It had been the early days of their conflict, Jay-Den's mother had been killed during an orbital bombardment. The Jedi council noted that Jay-Den had some basic potential for the force. But they refused to train him on the grounds that witnessing the blood shed by both dark and light Jedi had put him too close to the dark side. He hid deep feelings of anger over his mother's death, his father's absence and the conflict between darkness and light. Klue however believed every aspect of the force needed to be nurtured. Darkness and light could find a balance, Klue had a good grasp for duelling and force telekinesis. But his real talent was as a pilot, most Jedi made decent pilots because of their enhanced spatial awareness. Jay-Den however had the inventiveness and guts to be an incredible flyer.

Each of them had their stumbles, or would take a shot from the remotes, or even fumble a jump. But they were Klue's students, and he had faith that they could be great Jedi one day. If not, they still protected the galaxy through their work in the service corps. They walked back to the temple, their clothes dirty, but each holding a ribbon. Once they crossed the edge of the forest, they came upon the Jedi temple, where rows of Jedi Padawans in their traditional robes and braids practiced with their tech blades and remotes. Tech blades were a substitute for a real sabre, able to deflect blaster bolts, but they didn't have anywhere near the cutting power of a light sabre, functioning more as a club than anything else.

" Klue, holo-call for you in the briefing room," a Jedi in a beige shirt with a shoulder pad said.

"Thanks Kyle," Klue said.

Much of the inside of the temple was dark, consoles retrofitted some with engineers still working on them. A group of volunteers from the republic military came to the temple, many of them still in a type of uniform. Engineers wore grey clothing with a red jacket and a blaster holster on their shoulders. Scouts in the ruins wore leather boots, brown trousers and brown sleeveless jackets over their beige shirts. Then there was the soldiers, not Navy marines or troopers, but men and women in basic body armour over blue jumpsuits, packs on their backs and holding DC-15 rifles. They regarded Klue with some respect, a few of the volunteers were old soldiers whom came out of retirement from the Mandalorian wars. Klue had been a Padawan when he and his master joined the republic's militia against the Mandalorians.

"Come along you four, you can listen as well," Klue said to his students, walking up to the holo-map.

He pushed a few buttons, seeing that someone was on hold. The holographic map of Yavin 4 disappeared, replaced by a holographic image of a Xexto man.

"Porla, how are things old friend?" Klue asked.

"Business is booming as you humans say, I'm calling regarding the ship I helped you investigate, you had me check what was left of the wreckage and I was able to find the black box, it confirmed what you believed, the ship had an organic passenger on it," Porla explained.

"Good, where are you now?"

"Conducting some business on Savareen, I'm going to be there for a few days," Porla said.

"Good, good, we'll join you there as soon as we can," Klue said.

He cut the call and turned to his students.

"I think it's time we began getting each of you hands on experience," he said.

* * *

Korvis

Broken, he was broken, Daylen looked at the stump and cybernetic arm. He sat as he had before in his cell, other prisoners outside conversing amongst themselves. Perhaps some were discussing escape, or how they would succeed in the arena. He didn't care, couldn't care anymore, what good would it do to care. How could he possibly help when the best part of himself had been taken? How could he used his magic without his hands to focus it through? How could he fight as well as he could before without the feel of natural hands? And his plans? They were all dead because of his plans.

"It was a path that we all chose Daylen," Jowan said.

No, not Jowan, not his friend, just his guilt manifested into some ghost. One life, that was all a person had and Jowan's was gone. His best friend dead because of a path he had convinced him to take.

"Daylen, it's not over," again that echo spoke to him.

Shadows passed over him, but he didn't look up. He was taken to a room, his eyes were open but he didn't look. His cheek was grabbed, forcing him to look, but he didn't see. Maladi looked into the slave's eyes and saw emptiness. She stepped back, to the side of her escorts and turned to the slave's master.

"I have had considerable offers for him," Torvan said, gulping.

The Devaronian woman wasn't the tallest of her kind he had seen. But there was something eerie about her, her crimson skin was a darker shade than most of her kind, much like the unique red hue of Talon. Krayt's cult called itself he 'One Sith' order, most of the members painted their skin red along with black tattoos. Their meanings, Torvan did not care to know, but they always made him feel uneasy. His statement had been a partial lie, some had been interested in purchasing 13. One of those Kaminoans even offered fifty thousand credits for a sample of 13's blood, which Torvan was happy to give.

"My master would be willing to negotiate a fair price, granted we know that he knows he would be of use to him," Maladi said.

"I cannot be certain Miss Maladi, perhaps he will fight again, but I don't know enough about his species, or his mutation, or whatever it is, I'm no expert on the force."

"His force potential is low, yet my master has an interest, thus I have an interest," she said. "Send him back to the arena and we will see if there is a use for him."

"Very well," Torvan bowed his head.

Maximus stood in the other room, leaning next to the door frame, he huffed as he watched Maladi leave.

"Jedi rejects," he muttered.

He walked with the droids dragging 13 back to his cell, seeing Vim wash the blood off of some of the training weapons.

"So the boy remains with us," the hooded man stated.

"Of course, he has no choice to," Maximus said.

"We all have a choice Mandalorian, this one I think has more life left in him, more fights left to fight, a cause yet to answer to," Vim said.

"Causes!" Maximus huffed.

"Never underestimate the power of a cause, it can grant great strength and clarity."

"I once fought for a cause, I bore the armour of a Neo-Crusader, I fought beneath Mandalore the Ultimate, for the promise of honour and glory. The Mandalorian way, the way of the true Mandalorians, not those pretenders whom insult the name. But even the true Mandalorians, those led by Mandalore the preserver have lost all honour. We fought farmers, slaughtered millions, stole and destroyed and we gained no honour. We hid behind our cause as much as we did our helmets and..." Maximus stopped, unsure of why he was telling this to the man.

He unravelled his whip and Vim stepped back. It was enough of a warning for the slave, yet the man still smiled. Maximus resumed escorting 13 back to his cell. 13 sat in his usual pose, head down and eyes still empty.

"Torvan still sees value in you, your swordsmanship, that's the kind gained by watching others isn't it? You remember things to a photographic detail, an impressive skill to have. Torvan is going to make an investment in you, pay a little bit and gain more later, he'll use you, even if it's just an object for some lonely dame or lord with appetites to fulfil. You can either be a trophy, or something of value, you can either die in that sand there or on your feet," Maximus explained, looking down at the slave.

The sun sunk and 13 remained awake. When breakfast came in the morning, he left it for flies to scavenge. Droids had to drag him out of the cell, into the training area. He stood with a weapon but didn't protect himself. Stun batons slammed into his back, wood swords bruised his face, and blasters on stun shook his body. Lunch came and he refused, training resumed and he was battered.

"I am about to put money into you slave, where is the fire you had in the arena, where is that drive to survive? If you do not recover your fight by the third day, there will be consequences, mark my words," Torvan yelled at him.

Dinner he refused, and the chance to speak with others passed by his cell. All he had was the ghosts conjured by his mind.

"Pathetic, truly pathetic, they'll replace your hands you know," Cousland said.

"Don't, he has the right to grieve," Tabris said.

"He's not grieving, he's sulking," the former lord huffed. "I failed, got my hands cut off, lost my friends, poor, miserable me, I can't achieve anything because of that."

"Just leave him alone!"

"Alone is all he is," Cousland said before he disappeared.

Night came to pass and the small form of Dworkin shook his head at him.

"What good are you if you can't use your fire, or lightning, hell even ice? The rebellion needs big explosions, I mean I left some plans but let's face it, they never would have made a bomb as good as mine without me," he explained.

"Go away Dworkin," Greagoir said.

The dwarf shook his head and walked out through the cell wall.

"Oh, sorry you guys, carry on don't mind me," Dworkin said from the other side.

Greagoir looked down at 13 and shook his head.

"There's more to your magic than what you can direct with your hands, there's the kind you can direct within yourself. Earth armour, fade shrouds, haste, if you concentrate you should still be able to enhance weapons with elements, it is all in the concentration Daylen, take your time to grieve but don't let yourself give up. The loss of your grandfather did not break you, Irving's tranquillity did not break you, Surana's death did not break you, do not let this break you. I have known many mages and many templars, many warriors in my life, but you Daylen are the bravest of them all."

The echo looked at 13, waiting for a reaction, for something within him. But there was nothing, only the emptiness of a broken man. Day came and still 13 refused to eat, he was dragged to surgery again. Circuitry was fixed to his nerves and again he yelled, for Maximus again refused to have him be given pain killers. He had been given five digit hands this time, not the best cybernetics but good enough to fight with. But again he was beaten on the training field and again he refused lunch. He sat on the ground of his cell, this time his eyes drifted to his hands. Hands of metal, gears turning as he moved his fingers. The weight of it all crashed down on him as the tears began to leak through his eyes. He lowered his head and let out a yell, a scream that echoed around his narrow world.

"Let it out Daylen," Petra said.

"We understand, so let it out," Niall said.

"SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP!" 13 yelled. "STOP TALKING! STOP IT!"

He raised his head and screamed. Suddenly, the cell doors opened and the droids came in, dragging 13 out of the cell. Torvan rubbed the sleep in his eyes, frustrated by the fact he had been woken up. Maximus swung his whip into 13's back, the droids holding him up. Crack, crack the whip went, burning the slave's back, filling his body with electricity. Tears fell off of his cheeks not because of the immense pain of his body, but the pain in his soul, his mind conjuring the images of a battle he had fought in. Torvan stood and watched his property scream. Vim stood near one of the pillars, hand on his chin as the young man raised his head and yelled out. The slaves too began to lean through the bars of their cells. Moorint and the Twi'leks watched the boy. A Trandoshan briefly looked up to hear the sorrowful cries of another slave. A Dathomiran Zabrak man and his group looked at the whipping, a Duros, an Ishi Tib, a Sullustan, a group of Niktos, Quarrens, Bothans and Selkath all watched the young man take the lashing as if he welcomed it. As Maximus whipped the slave, her wondered what this man's name was, he wondered whether that fighting spirit he saw in the arena had truly been extinguished, or if as he hoped, no, it was foolish to hope here, he betted that each strike filled the slave with enough anger to regain his spirit. In the end he as thrown back into his cell, and the next morning he wasn't given breakfast, wasn't put on the training yard. Instead he was taken with a few of the other slaves. Humans, the Twi'leks, Mirialan's and Togruta, men and women, those deemed 'beautiful' by judges.

"He's burned," one of the men overseeing the slaves in the skiff said.

"He's tall and he's got muscles, besides a lot of freaks out there like scars," another man said, putting a collar on 13's neck.

"Shock collar, is that necessary?"

"Punishment, he's been defiant, won't train or even eat, that Torvan guy is an amateur when it comes to slaves."

"What do you expect, he thinks he can get a champion into the arena."

The slaves were loaded into a transport and sent across the sands to an event being held by Kalla the Hutt. Her palace had a squad of armed guards protecting it, guests from the darkest parts of the galaxy had come to enjoy the drink, music and the sight of the slaves being subjected to humiliation. From underneath her cloak, Talon looked at the Twi'lek women being forced to dance. Put into scanty clothes, chains, whipped and dancing to the music as Kalla laughed. She looked towards the slave, 13, and saw a pathetic, empty eyed shell of a man. Maladi had already recovered his hand, and was sure enough genetic material could be gained from it. If the power he wielded was genetic, then it would be the One Sith's to use. It would be her master's ton control, Talon knew than an army of powerful warriors capable of wielding the elements could destroy the republic. But looking at 13 she saw someone who wouldn't train such an army, someone whom would be useless to her master.

"Now this is my kind of party," Daveth said.

"Such excess, and dishonourable behaviour," Jory shook his head.

Daveth grinned, watching a Theelin woman in a fur coat go by with her Twi'lek friend. They both looked at 13, walking towards him.

"Do not tell me, the famous Lyn Me and Rystall Sant, I was your performances at the opera hall in Coruscant, my I didn't realise you were arena fans," Torvan said.

"Of course not, we attend these events for other things, may I?" Lyn Me asked, moving her hands to the burns on 13's body.

"Lucky bastard," Daveth muttered.

"You realise of course he is in no way consenting to this," Petra said.

Both Daveth and Jory however stared and Petra shook her head in dismay. Lyn rubbed herself against 13's chest and Rystall rubbed his arm. They weren't the only ones groping slaves. Some were rich women touching the slaves of both genders to test for later, men with unwilling women on their laps. Rich and fancily dressed, smugglers, thieves, arms dealers, people from all walks of life but with one thing in common, they were despicable. Rystall caressed 13's face, running a silk gloved hand over his dry lips.

"Handsome somewhat, even with the scars and the burn, open your mouth slave," she commanded.

13 remained motionless, his face blank, even as Lyn Me moved her hands down to rub his groin area. Torvan pushed the button on the collar control he carried, shocking 13's neck and making him gag. Rystall viciously slammed her lips into his, moving her tongue against his. She moaned, enjoying the taste and oblivious to the looks of disgust across the faces of the lost. Well, Daveth chuckled and Jory blushed, whilst Kinnon and Niall nearly dropped their jaws. She moved her lips away and looked to Lyn Me, shocked by the disappointed look on her face.

"Nothing?" she asked.

"No, nothing," Lyn Me moved her hand away from 13's groin and sighed.

"Ladies, um, he's just going through the stages, you know how slaves are, once his spirits are back he'll be standing to attention before you know it, I'll offer him to you for a night at a reduced price if you reserve now," Torvan explained.

Much to his disappointment, the two women laughed and walked away. Music began to play and the lost perked up.

"Is there something familiar about this?" Jowan asked.

"Oh no, this song," Niall groaned.

"You've got to be kidding," Petra said.

_"Koo ne tang, na' na' na, ah lawah, KOO NE TANG!"_

"Hate this song," Jowan said.

"Agreed," said Greagoir.

"Seconded," Tabris and Cousland nodded.

"It has its advantages," Dworkin said.

"Yeah, like Ooh La, la," Daveth said.

As the band played the song, a green skinned Twi'lek danced amongst the slaves. They had to followed her movements, but she was just as much a slave as them, a chain attached to the collar on her neck.

"Wait, that is Oola, something's not right, I thought she was a celebrity in the empire," Jowan said.

"Now that there isn't a screen between us I think I see, she's scared out of her mind," Daveth said.

"Yes, I recognise fear, it seems the empire uses edited footage of these performances as some kind of entertainment to offer us," Greagoir explained.

Talon shook her head at the performance, looking to 13 again. She saw his head twitch slightly, the shaking of both of his hands.

"This is disgusting, she's sweating, over worked, no woman should have to bear this," Lily said.

"Something terrible is about to happen," Cousland said.

"Yeah, I see it too, the blood lust in the eyes of these 'people'," Tabris sneered.

"Look at the platform, that's a trap door," Niall said.

"This isn't entertainment, this is an execution," Petra gasped.

"No, entertainment is exactly what this is," Jowan widened his eyes and then looked at 13.

Oola felt Kalla tug on her chain. She pulled back, praying and begging as Kalla cackled. The Hutt slammed her fist into a button by her bowl of grubs. At that moment, 13 moved, rushing towards Oola.

"NO!" Torvan yelled.

The platform opened and both 13 and Oola fell into the hidden pit below, the Twi'lek woman screaming as she went down. 13 crashed into a pile of bones, one sticking into his shoulder and splinters covering his legs and cheek. But most horrifically of all, a massive bone had pierced through his right elbow. Oola brushed the dust off of her body, standing and looking up at the ceiling as it closed. There was a click, and the whirl of a mechanism.

"I knew it Day, I knew you couldn't just stand by I knew you..."Jowan stopped himself, looking down at the motionless 13. "You weren't trying to save her, by the maker, you want to die here don't you?" he asked.

There was a growl as the blast door in front of Oola opened. She stepped back, trembling in fear, her face an expression of pure horror. Her scream echoed through the pit, making the people up top laugh.

"Day, no, oh maker, please Day, don't let this be the end, if you let her die then you truly are dead," Jowan said.

It emerged from the blast door, roaring, saliva coating the ground beneath. Kalla's pride and joy, the albino, Bull Rancor. The creature roared and stomped its feet, and Oola ran to the other side of the pit.

"Day, get up, do at least something, you don't give up, you don't stop trying," Jowan squeezed his hands into fists. "You are my friend, the person I admired, the person I wanted to be, you're a hero...that was your dream!"

'Shut up,' 13 thought.

He looked up at the people through the bars on the ceiling, seeing them crowd around to get a better view.

'This galaxy, is grotesque, I couldn't do a thing, couldn't save anyone, couldn't change anything...don't want to see this ugly place any more, don't want to see, ugly home anymore, don't want to live ugly life anymore,' 13 thought.

"What do you want?"

His vision drifted to his right, to the image of a red skinned Chagrian.

"You defeated me, started your rebellion, what else do you want if not to be a hero? Would this be the kind of person the woman you love would be proud of? I know you don't believe in the Maker, in another life, but if there is something beyond this do you really think she'll want to see you?" the Chagrian asked.

"Can't fight," 13 whispered.

"Maybe not my boy, but there's more than one type of magic, and you're no ordinary mage. If there's trouble getting up, then know that through the dark side, your chains can be broken," the Chagrian grinned before disappearing.

Oola screamed as the Rancor reached for her. There was another great cry, and the Rancor looked towards another, more aggressive prey. He stood, right arm dangling off of its socket, the metallic fingers of the useless prosthetic dragging against the door. With his other hand, he ripped the other bone out of his shoulder, the splinters dropping onto the floor as a feint red haze emanated from him. The watchers had stopped their cheering and jeering and looked down at the slave in shock. Talon's interest was rekindled and she looked at the slave. He turned to the Rancor, back slouched and breathing aggressively. He grit his teeth together and looked up at the Rancor. His eyes continually shifted from glowing red, to aggressive yellow. The yellow of a man drawing from the dark side.

"Blood magic Daylen, no!" Jowan whispered.

For Torvan it was a very different image he looked at. He didn't see the slave number 13 anymore. Indeed, up until that point the man that had occupied the cell on his estate, that had rejected his food and taken beatings from other slaves and guards was a simple number. The man had now awakened, Daylen Amell.

Next Episode 25: Operation on Ophuchi

* * *

Hope everyone enjoyed the chapter, Daylen's lost a little bit more of himself (figuratively and literally speaking :) but he's back.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars or Dragon Age

Kallig and Canus are both canon characters of both the Old republic and Dragon Age. 00virtuezero is aware of the identity of Kallig as it was his idea to make her part of the Sith, basing her armour off of Faora-Ul's from the Man of Steel movie, though her helmet and Canus's armour are items available in the Old republic game. Kallig is also the canon name/alias of the Sith Inquisitor as reference by the Star Wars Wiki.

This chapter uses planets, characters and concepts used by 'The Star Wars' Dark Horse comic.

* * *

Dragon Wars: The Force of Others

Episode 25: Operation on Ophuchi

She walked into her chambers, the bones of dragons displayed in cases around her bed. A mage's staff was well preserved in another glass case, it had been treated well, as if it was precious to her. Plates of armour covered her hard suit, armour somewhat similar to what people from Thedas wore. A black helmet skull like mask covered her face. Strapped to her skirt armour was a light sabre with a round hilt. She walked towards a ring, seven circles lit up around her as she knelt. One by one, members of the dark council formed to oversee Thedas appeared. Bearing more authority than Tarkin, and consisting of the most powerful Sith lords in the sector, they bore the name Darth and command over her destiny.

First came Darth Asher, a replacement for a recently killed dark lord. A man whom believed in absolute honesty, he was handsome, not affected by dark side degradation. Second appeared Darth Zannah, torturer, manipulator, a blonde haired woman with diamond tattoos on her pale skin. Following her was Darth Lumiya, former regent of Kirkwall, a woman who was more machine than human in both body and soul. Then came the Sith pureblood, Darth Vindican. He was not the only alien in the council, standing taller than the others was the hologram of the Muun dark lord, Darth Plagueis. The sixth hologram showed a woman in a sleeveless robe that exposed her midriff. The seventh holographic pad though was inactive.

"Where is he?" she asked, raising her head to look at Darth Plagueis.

"We summoned you Inquisitor Kallig, not him," Plagueis said.

She bowed her head, awaiting whatever order they gave. Though she specifically admired only one of the council members, she served at the pleasure of the other lords and ladies too. As an acolyte of the Sith, she had cast aside her old life in Thedas, embraced a new name, the dark side and loyalty to the will of her masters.

"What is your bidding?" she asked.

"Rebels in the North, rebels in the South, rebels in the East, and to the west," Zannah mused.

"Disorganised rabble, we do not yet know if they are a larger scale rebellion," Lumiya said.

"But you can't deny, Kirkwall only rebelled because of the success of the Ferelden rebels," Asher said.

"If one could call the massacre of the mages and the destruction of their country a success," said the new addition to the council.

She must have been Darth Kaius's replacement, brought in from off world. She was a dark haired woman, the make up around her eyes giving away her elite upbringing. As if sensing her confusion, Asher stood and waved his hands towards the newcomer in a mock bow.

"Vaverone Zare, latest addition to our humble council, she caused quite a stir when she went into the republic space and secured a very specific item for us," Asher explained.

"Darth Alluress, that is the title I have taken on," Zare said.

"Inquisitor Kallig, you have hunted rebels of a particular skill set before, we believe the survivors of the Ferelden rebellion have force users amongst them," Lumiya said.

"I will capture and attempt to turn them masters, and if they do not give in, I will destroy them along with the rebels," Kallig said.

"As expected, fail us and you know the consequences," Zannah said as one by one the council members disappeared.

All except Plagueis, who drew Kallig's attention.

"Is there anything else master?" she asked.

"Something the other council members must not learn of, this is his will, he has found four individuals he wants you to train," Plagueis said.

"If it is as my true master wishes, then so it shall be!"

* * *

Space-Thedas/Bendu System

Dorian marvelled at the sight from the bridge, the stars, the planets and all the other wonders of space. He also smirked to himself, he was the first member of his family to reach space (the last member too if his father didn't get his way). Having dressed in the red robes of a Sith acolyte, he turned to his commander for the upcoming mission. Fausten stood with his hands behind his back, watching his crew. They were a competent lot, of course nothing was going wrong so of course they would perform well. Dorian took a few steps towards the captain, but stopped when one of the officers ran to him.

"Captain, a shuttle has just exited warp speed, it is a Sith shuttle and it has showed the relevant codes," the officer said.

"The rebels recently used a stolen shuttle to steal from a mining base, why are they in this sector?" Fausten asked.

"They request to board us, they said they are passing through Bendu to get to Ophuchi!"

Fausten nodded his head, turned on his heel and began walking down the walkway.

"Lower the hanger shields, have the turrets follow its movement carefully, I want a security team ready at the landing bay," Fausten explained, speaking like a real commander.

"May I come along?" Dorian asked.

"Yes Pavus, please walk with me," Fausten said.

They stepped into the elevator, the machine beginning to take them down.

"Who are we welcoming?" Dorian asked.

"A Sith acolyte, our back up for the operation, even though I have assurances that I'll still be in charge," Fausten leant his head against the wall and sighed.

"Acolytes, force warriors right?"

"Yeah, this one is apparently new from the Sith academy, though he's already proven himself in several missions for his master. What I was able to confirm is that he is indeed from Thedas," Fausten explained.

"Hmm, it would be good to have a mage to back up my spells," Dorian muttered.

"He's not a mage, force sensitive of course, but he apparently excelled not with force techniques, but light sabre combat," the elevator came to a halt and Fausten led Dorian through the corridors of the ship.

Troopers lined up outside the Sith craft. It landed between the squadrons of troopers, drawing a whistle from Fausten.

"The Fury Class-Imperial interceptor, quite a ship from what I've heard," he said.

"It certainly looks impressive, but looks aren't all important...well, it has to be when compared to me," Dorian grinned and Fausten chuckled.

"At attention now Pavus, we're about to meet our betters," Fausten said, a smirk crossing his face before he set it to a disciplined stare.

The hatch opened and a group of four stepped off. At the front was a dark haired man in a grey and black imperial intelligence uniform. Coming up behind him was a bulkier man in Sith trooper armour, he had patches of his red hair shaved across his head, similar to a style Dorian had seen on some Qunari. Though he clearly wasn't Qunari, and was clearly the opposite of the refined man in front of him, all gruff and scowls. A brighter face came after them, a Twi'lek girl with black marks on her tails, a red and silver crown across her forehead and a shock collar around the back of her neck. Despite this and her simplistic and dull clothes, she still wore a smile.

Then the fourth member of the group stepped forward. All became silent, the brightness sucked from the room. He was tall and muscular, from what Dorian could see from the exposed parts of his hard suit. But much of his body was covered by patches of armour and robes, Dorian had heard it been called 'Recluse' armour before. The mask on the helmet covered the man's face. Robes hung off of his belt and his head scanned the room. Dorian noticed the black long sword attached to his back. He knew of Sith acolytes from Thedas to carry some form of customised light sabre, different from what most Sith used.

"Captain Fausten Thrennhold, welcome to the Skylark," the captain saluted.

"Agent Malavai Quinn of Imperial intelligence, at ease captain you are still in charge," the agent said.

"Lieutenant Pierce," the trooper said gruffly.

"This is Vette, she is not officially part of the military, consider her more equipment than crew," Malavai said, pointing one thumb at the Twi'lek.

"As this is my ship I'll consider her personnel Agent Quinn," Fausten put on a fake smile, and nodded to the Twi'lek.

**"As expected captain!" **the voice distorting effects of the Sith Warrior's helmet took Dorian aback.

He felt his hairs raised as the man drew closer. Dorian's hand sparked with electricity, he braced himself as the warrior lifted his hand.

**"Canus Indagator captain, request permission to step onto the bridge," **he said, settling his hand into a salute.

"Permission granted my lord," Fausten nodded his head.

The armoured warrior and his entourage walked past Fausten and Dorian finally let out a sigh. He settled his hand, gripping his heart for a moment.

"They can have that affect," Fausten said.

"He's very different from the posers you dispatched at the party," Dorian said.

"If I were to even try to fight Canus, I am sure Dorian that I would lose within three moves or less."

He said that with the utmost of confidence in his assessment, more than his faith in his abilities. Yet his confident expression wasn't lost. Following after the warrior, Fausten and Dorian walked through the corridors with the small group.

"I understand you recently came from the capital world Lord Canus," Fausten said.

**"I am no lord, consider me a commander, I am still apprenticed to Darth Baras," **Canus said.

"I am not familiar with the name I am afraid."

"He is prominent in the imperial core, and he's taken an interest in this system and the planets in it," Malavai said.

"So there's more than one planet in this system that supports intelligent life?" Dorian asked.

Malavai raised his eyebrows at Dorian's presence. Pierce rolled his eyes dismissively, but the imperial agent looked at Dorian with suspicion.

"There are a few, though the term 'intelligent' can be debatable for some," Fausten said.

"Well do they talk?" Dorian asked.

"Yes but the ability to communicate does not always make one intelligent," Fausten shrugged.

**"There are six worlds that are occupied by sapient beings, this one we're going to is Ophuchi, a colonial world that is part of the Aquilae kingdom. Then there is Aquilae, the capital of their kingdom, followed by Ogana Major, their biggest military base,"** Canus explained as he stepped into the elevator with Vette, inviting Dorian and Fausten on board as well.

"We will catch up with..." Malavai was cut off when the door closed.

"Ogana minor and major are military bases so we don't count those," Fausten said.

**"Ogana Minor was taken by the empire recently anyway. There is Napalev, occupied by avian reptillian species like the Inturas and the Gorkarns, the desert world of Ses'Rekh supports the amphibious Larasian and Relld, the other three worlds we have been unable to formally map and catalogue, but we are aware there is life on them,"** Canus explained.

"What can we expect on Ophuchi?" Dorian asked.

"Mix-developed society," Vette shrugged. "They have blasters, but they also still use pikes and armour. They're a mostly human population, but they share their worlds with the Yourellians," she elaborated.

"I see, so in some ways they're newer to galactic travel than we on Thedas are," Dorian mused.

They reached the bridge, Fausten was the first out, relaying orders to the crew. Dorian walked to the starboard side window, looking out at the orange planet, so there was desert and dust clouds on it. He spotted lasers coming out of orbit, hitting the shields of another Imperial Star Destroyer there. A hologram came on screen, another imperial captain appearing before the crew.

"Am I addressing Captain Thrennhold of the Skylark?" the captain asked.

"You are, we have come to provide reinforcements, what forces do you have on the ground already?" Fausten asked.

"I deployed the 31st mobile legion under the command of Commander Ryatt, but he hasn't checked in," the captain said. "I am captain Hastings in command of the imperial garrison here, I want you to deploy your forces ground side immediately and reinforce my men."

"How long ago did you lose contact with your forces?"

"Three hours ago, why?" Hastings asked.

"What intelligence have you gathered concerning the enemy positions?"

"I fail to..."

"Have your communications officer download all your Intel to my ship," Fausten said.

**"Do as he says captain Hastings,"** Canus said, stepping into Hastings's view.

The older man gulped upon seeing the acolyte, he hesitantly nodded his head and turned to his communications officer. Fausten's own officer, a Rivaini girl received the details.

"I have it sir," she said.

"Good, Agent Quinn," Fausten turned to Malavai as he exited the elevator. "Work with Ensign Maya and compose a map of the enemy bases in relation to the last known position of our units on the ground," he commanded.

"Captain I..."

**"Do as he says Quinn,"** Canus said and the imperial agent hesitantly nodded his head.

They worked at their console, cycling through various menus and data. Pierce frowned at Fausten as he turned towards him.

"I don't take orders from you caveman," he said.

"Then you'll be spending the majority of your time in the mess hall Lieutenant, Miss Vette," Fausten turned to the Twi'lek girl, making Pierce grit his teeth together.

She too was surprised by Fausten's interest and polite tone, though still commanding tone.

"I've put together a team of troopers I'd like you to accompany, they'll be preparing in bay twelve as we speak, please go there now," he said.

Vette looked to Canus, whom nodded his head. She rubbed her neck for a moment before walking to the lift.

"I'm not leaving this in her hands," Pierce huffed, following her.

"Sir, we've managed to draw out a map of the enemy position, as well as the blue print of the enemy fortress," Quinn said.

"Excellent, put it on the main screen," Fausten said.

The hologram appeared, showing an overlook of the battlefield. Canus looked at Fausten, seeing the way he focused on the map, one hand on his chin and another on the elbow. This was a man who was planning, a man of tactics and discipline. Not like other military officers whom simply reacted, Fausten was an officer who planned an entire battle out.

"As I expected, the bulk of the enemy force is attacking our main units on the ground, they've left their agricultural areas exposed with a minimum defence. There is a gap in their cannon grid, an area of their fortress exposed," he explained.

Dorian followed the man's words, holding onto every detail of the man's plan. He knew he needed to watch Fausten carefully. As he needed to watch and remember every officer whom would be the greatest obstacle of the rebellion.

* * *

Ferelden

Alistair and Leliana stood within a small grove, their equipment packs leaning against a tree where Irving sat. The former Tranquil, former First Enchanter and newly appointed teacher had his staff resting on his knees and complete focus on his two students.

"Close your eyes you two, and then just breathe," he said.

"Really?" Alistair looked over his shoulder, earning a slap from Leliana. "Teacher's pet," he muttered.

"Breathe in and then out, calm yourselves, feel the breeze on your face, the ground beneath your feet, listen to whatever is out there. Birds in the sky, bugs in the dirt, and the various unseen microbes that flitter harmlessly amongst us. Forget what you know of scripture, forget whatever connection you have to the maker, and forge a new connection with the world itself."

"Seriously is this it?" Alistair asked.

"Hush," Leliana growled.

"I don't have time for this, I need to make sure..."

"Alistair, if you want to at least be able to use the force in a way that is not accidental, you need to have understanding and above all, patience," Irving explained, standing and walking between the two.

"Fine, I'll try," Alistair said.

"Don't try," Irving slapped the young man's back, taking hold of his and Leliana's hands. "If you approach every obstacle and try, then you don't truly believe that you can succeed. Now fear of failure is a good thing in this environment, fail here so that you don't fail out there. Failure is in itself one of the greatest teachers you can have."

"Did Daylen fail?" Leliana asked.

"Oh yes, many a time, you didn't think he was the perfect student did you? Daylen was brilliant, no one could deny that, he used blood magic in a way no one had until then. But everything else he had to work at, he nearly blew up the room when he first used fire, entropy and charming took the longest time for him to adapt to. And though he took failure hard, every failure was a lesson," Irving explained.

"Great, now why are we holding hands?" Alistair asked.

"Kneel," Irving said, dragging both Leliana and Alistair into a kneeling position on the dirt.

He placed their hands on the ground and repeated himself.

"Breathe, feel the soil, listen to the wind, feel the moisture in the air and listen to your heart beat. This, everything around you, is life, is god, love and hatred, life and death, it is the world, the universe itself," Irving said.

Leliana listened to her exhale, and let her consciousness drift. She didn't truly know if it was imagination, or a true vision, but she saw things. Birds in the sky drifting through the currents of air, those currents moving the flowers that grew on the green fields. Those fields sunk into the moist dirt, where ants, centipedes and other insects crawled and oozed out of. And underneath the dirt, deep beneath the earth she imagined the bones of dead animals, of dead people. She imagined the lives they lived, hunting and playing, looking up at the sky and the night. In the stars those people saw, Leliana pictured the multitude of planets and the amazing alien creatures she had yet to meet. Deeper and deeper through that vacuum of space she imagined the great flames of those stars, the suns. That moment gave her more clarity than any visit to the Chantry could, than any prayer could.

"Life, death, light and darkness," she whispered.

"That's it Leliana," Irving smiled. "What is it?"

"A force," Leliana said.

"Yes, and where is that force?"

"Inside of me, inside of us, inside of everything."

"Brilliant, that is the first lesson, the force is not some grand power, it is everything!"

Irving stood, clapping his hands three times and patting their backs. Leliana looked at Alistair with a smile, but he wasn't happy. He stood up and put on a smile for her, though she could already tell he had failed to see the point of the lesson.

"Can't we just practice with rocks?" he asked.

"It isn't about the rocks," Irving said.

"Not at all, just moving the rocks," Alistair muttered.

Irving picked up his staff and led them back to the group. Oghren, Zevran and Sten, but with the addition of a black furred Mabari (whom Sten had taken to petting).

"We split up from here, I'll take the boys to the Deeproads, and you'll go with Irving to track that Vinsomer," Leliana said.

"I still think it should be you," Alistair said.

"My technical skills are better than yours Alistair, don't worry, we'll be meeting a Grey Warden who will show us the way!"

"Be careful and bring back something that can turn the tide."

"You too," Leliana walked up to Alistair.

She rested one hand on his chest and the other on his cheek. Both closed their eyes as they lightly pushed their lips together. Zevran grinned proudly whilst Oghren rolled his eyes. Sten didn't care and Irving was rubbing the back of his head embarrassed. They slowly separated from the kiss, Leliana reaching into her pack for something. She produced from it a cylinder shaped object that though had a different style from the devices he had seen, was recognisable to Alistair. It had been put together with some spare parts, plating from a droid, a dial was at the top of it, and the pommel had been made with wood and a coin from a Chantry. Alistair took hold of the light sabre, turning the dial, a silver, white blade extended from the hilt. Feeling weightless in his hand, Alistair still took hold of the hilt with both hands and tested the weapon with a few slashes. It was smoother, the blade more stable than the flaming effect that Daylen Amell's weapon had had.

"It doesn't have a cross guard," was his first reaction.

"Daylen's design was good, but I needed to improve on it. I fixed the original flaw, you'll noticed its slightly bigger than other hilts," Leliana said.

Oghren and Zevran both stifled a laugh, the joke flying over Sten's stoic demeanour.

"To contain the Lyrium's energy," Alistair said.

"Exactly!"

"I still have this, from Cailan's 'royal guards'," Alistair reached for the sabre pike at his hip.

"Keep it, I know you're not a dual wielder, but it could help to have a spare. Besides, this sabre is a symbol, when you return to us riding a dragon, be sure to have that sword blazing and raised high," Leliana explained.

Alistair nodded his head and put both weapons at his hip. They continued on to the rendezvous point, where a shuttle was waiting.

"Good to see you guys again," Varric Tethras grinned.

"Just two passengers today Varric," Alistair said.

"Good luck, Maker watch over you," Leliana said as Alistair and Irving walked onto the shuttle ramp.

"May the force be with us all," Irving said.

* * *

Ophuchi

Dorian walked alongside the other mages, he had been given orders by Fausten to deploy with Canus. The Sith Warrior stood at the front of the other troops. He would be the first onto the battlefield. Fausten made the plan clear, a small force would reinforce the Imperial troops already on the ground. This was the force Dorian was part of, then there were other details of the plan. A strike against the Bendu supply line, a hit on their city and a bombing run. Dorian though wasn't able to learn what the target of the bombing run was. Weapons thrummed inside the drop ship, Dorian saw the mud troopers ignite electro hammers, staves and dual batons. The majority of the mud troopers used these types of melee weapons, Vette's unit consisted of scout troopers in brown armour and wielding electro clubs. It was clear to Dorian that Fausten's legions were filled with locals from Thedas, people whom still hadn't yet given up the sword. Dorian drew his staff from his back, feeling the shift in weight as the drop ship left the main hammer.

"Blessed are the peacekeepers, champions of the just," he heard one of the troopers mutter.

"Var-toh Katashok, ebadim maraas issala toh," ahead of him a bulkier trooper rubbed the side of his hammer, and Dorian noticed the Qunari styled sword on his back.

It wasn't that the bulk of Fausten's ranks were filled with those from Thedas, the entirety of his crew were from Thedas. Sound began to ring outside of the ship, and Dorian felt his weight return, they had hit the atmosphere. The ship shook as cannon fire ripped through the sky. Dorian heard the static of ships that had been shot down. The ramp of the ship opened, and Canus was the first out. He landed on the ground, releasing a force wave that threw the enemies back. When the ship landed, Dorian looked over the shoulders of the other troopers and saw Canus ignite the two light sabres on his sword. Then he was off, seemingly lost in the rush of combat. Dorian ran forward with the other troopers, and looked upon his 'enemy'.

Yourellians were a green scaled race, with the same muscle mass typical of Kossith. Dorian looked upon one that had been slashed by Canus and his sword. The soldier was beside a human soldier in primitive armour and a helmet. Overcoming his regret, Dorian put his survival first. The other mages had practiced the primal and entropic arts well, but Dorian employed a specialised form of magic. When people heard 'Necromancy' they thought of bringing corpses back from the dead. Dorian despised such misconceptions, his form of magic used spirits, temporarily turning them into thralls to employ the effects he wanted. Blaster bolts flew past him, and as he focused his magic he discovered something. The fade existed even on planets like Ophuchi, which led Dorian to believe that mages themselves were gateways to the fade. So serving as that gateway, Dorian unleashed the wisps of the fallen on the Ophuchi defenders. The blue energy crackled, flowing through the men and women Dorian targeted. Eating away at their life force, it created ghostly apparitions of them and attacked their allies.

**"Reinforce our men!" **Canus commanded, cutting down two soldiers with a single swing.

Mud troopers fired their blasters, but the bulk of the army employed close range combat. Batons bashed in skulls, hammers crushed limbs and Canus cut through swathes of the enemies. With both hands he swung his sword, deflecting blaster bolts and making the spears of the Ophuchi soldiers look useless. Balls of fire and bolts of lightning crashed into the Ophuchi warriors. Dorian placed several fire mines, spells the ignorant enemies quickly fell victim to. He unleashed several entropic blasts from his staff, killing the soldiers in front of him as if he was using a blaster. The imperial soldiers were huddled in a group, a last stand position. They were the rank and file Sith troopers, black armour with antennas on their backs. A few of the storm troopers were amongst the ranks too, one man with crew cut stood out, his grey armour dirty from blood and mud.

"Don't just stand there in awe men, HIT BACK!" he yelled.

Raising both an E-11 rifle and SE-14C pistol, the man fired on the Ophuchi troops. His men moved forward, blasters blazing like the magic of the mages. Dorian slammed his staff into the ground, conjuring a ghostly, black and blue skull that rose from the ranks of the enemy. It was to influence their minds, fill them fear, though when Dorian saw Canus he knew such a thing wasn't necessary. Fear turned into outright panic as the soldiers tripped over themselves. The Sith acolyte ruthlessly cut them down, embodying the terror of the Sith religion. He stabbed foes who cowered in fear, beheaded men whom pleaded and easily sliced through anyone who resisted the spell enough to raise their weapon. His hand latched out, raising the helpless off of the floor with the force. Their legs dangled and they clutched the invisible force at their throats. But with a twist of his hand, Canus broke their necks.

'Is this a battle, or a massacre?' Dorian wondered.

He looked to the other mages. Groups of them had gathered together, chanting and gathering mana with their hands. The air around them became distorted, rings of energy forming around the ground. Then they summoned them, storms of electricity, of fire and ice, the fabled perfect storms that scattered the enemy formations. Where once the enemy held an advantage, now they were the ones on the run. Dorian noticed the Storm trooper commander had gotten closer to Canus, shooting any enemies he missed. Both men nodded to one another in respect and resumed their slaughter.

"This isn't a battle, it's a massacre," Dorian found himself speaking his thoughts.

MkVI Supremacy class fighters swooped over the region, strafing the ground with blaster fire. Dorian saw the fighters blasts areas ahead of him, creating large explosions. He stopped one of the Sith troopers, grabbing his communicator.

"Captain Thrennhold, Captain what are the fighters doing?" Dorian demanded.

"Taking out their agricultural and factory districts," Fausten said.

"They look more like they're bombing cities and farms," Dorian said.

"That is where their facilities are located Pavus," Fausten retorted.

Dorian dropped the communicator in shock. He looked ahead at the burning fires, the toppling buildings. Then he looked at the troopers gunning and cutting down the men and women that had taken up arms. His hands shook with the anger that he had become party to this. Canus paused only for a moment when surrendering soldiers got to their knees, then he cut them down all the same. Ahead of them was a grand castle, and Dorian flinched when he saw one of the spires blow up, falling to the streets below. A blaster bolt nearly struck Dorian's arm, he threw himself back into the fight, for his own survival at least.

* * *

Canus walked over the corpses of his defeated foes. They were nothing against him, but ahead of him he could sense the approach of new opponents. Three, though only one was strong in the force. A veteran, no doubt, he could sense the influence of cybernetics in this man. There was one other, young, proud and hot blooded as he had once been. The third was too young, a mere child whom was only beginning to learn of the force. Yet, Canus could sense that he had driven them to desperation. They walked through the dust towards him, igniting their red light sabres. At the front was the greater threat, a man with a greying beard. His brown cloak fluttered behind him, he wore a metallic harness over his blue shirt and gloves. Beside him stood a blonde haired young man, goggles over his forehead and similar blue clothes to his father (the resemblance was uncanny). Then to their left, the youngest son, wearing a simple tattered white shirt.

"You stand before the knights of Bendu Sith," the older man seethed.

**"The vaunted protectors of the royal family, I am aware of who you are, and you are aware that we currently hold the advantage, not even killing me will stop this,"** Canus said.

"It'll be a good start," the younger man retorted.

"No Annikin," his father said.

The man took a few steps forward, keeping his sabre raised.

**"Surrender!"**

"Never," Annikin growled.

"The dark side, it...it has not taken you completely," the older man said, looking at Canus.

**"I wield the dark side, I do not bow to it. Surrender now and my master will not learn of your presence here, the commanders in their ships do not care for you," **Canus explained.

"You know who I am don't you?" the old man asked.

**"Kane Starkiller, one of the lost Jedi commanders whom followed Revan and Malak into Sith territory. You have in your possession a Holocron, turn it to me and I will allow you to leave this place!"**

"You're confident when outnumbered," Annikin said.

"Your master is after this Holocron, do you even know what it contains?" Kane asked.

**"Something my master is better off without," **Canus said.

"Whose side are you even on?" Annikin demanded.

**"The only side I've ever been on, turn the Holocron over and leave, or stay and die, I don't care because you are not on my side!"**

Kane deactivated his light sabre, raising his hand. A white cube was suddenly pulled away from the younger boy's hip, into Kane's hand. Canus deactivated the sabres on his sword and stabbed it into the ground. He raised his hand to receive the cube, but Kane held it close to his chest.

"You have ruthlessly cut down my allies, I can sense the anger and darkness inside of you, but something else too. If I am to place my trust in you, tell me, I'll know if you are lying. For what reason are you fighting?" Kane demanded.

**"Reasons really, my father was murdered by the Sith for standing up to them," **Canus said.

Kane looked at the young man, he could tell that the Sith Warrior wasn't some middle aged man recruited late by the Sith. He could also sense the sincerity within him, despite the helmet and the distorting effects of it. Figures in red armour and robes suddenly came up behind the Sith Warrior.

"ENEMIES!" fire and electricity glowed in their hands.

"He betrayed us," Annikin said.

Canus suddenly swept his arm around, suddenly pulling Kane's light sabre to his hand. He ignited the sabre and held it close to his head, as if praying. Then, as the mages began to launch their spells, a yellow shockwave emanated from Canus's body. The fire went out, and the lightning flickered into nothingness.

"What was that?" one of the mages asked.

"A spell purge, he's a Templar too!"

Before the mages could yell anymore, Canus cut them down in a flurry of fierce strikes. He stabbed the last of the men through the chest and deactivated the sabre, opening the palm of his hand and turning to Kane.

**"The second is one I'm sure you can understand, to protect my family!"**

Next Episode 26: Rage awakened

* * *

Hope everyone enjoyed the chapter, you guys are free to guess who our two Sith Acolytes really are :) this chapter was my intention to introduce a form of light side practitioners in the Sith part of the galaxy. The planets discussed by Fausten and the Sith Warrior's party will also serve as plot points in the future, they are original worlds, though I have based them partly on something. Other companion characters and classes from the Old republic games will appear in the future.

Next time we return to Daylen and the Rancor


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars or Dragon Age

We're back to Daylen now, with the introduction of more alternative canon characters (including a new approach to the Knights of Ren below) and a new way to use magic.

* * *

Dragon Wars: The Force of Others

Episode 26: Rage awakened

They stood upon the hilltop, shrouded by the darkness. Each one a practitioner of the dark side of the force, yet not Sith, and not truly Dark Jedi either. Near the front of the group stood an Iktotchi woman, her face partly covered by the black hood attached to her shirt. A kama (a type of belt-cape) ran down her legs, white sleeves her lower arms and her boots were a simple leather. Behind her were the men her visions had led her to, the men whom held the future of the galaxy in their hands. She knew them as the Abandoned, the Armoury, the Rogue, the Monk, the Heavy and the Sniper. They were the disciplines of the wanderer, the knights of darkness, the Knights of Ren. He was crouched on the rock, arms resting on his knees, face covered by the black and silver mask he wore. A cloak rested on his shoulders, offering no cover for his bare chest, a landscape of scars and burns. One of his hands was covered by a glove, and a black light sabre hung off of his belt. He looked over his shoulder towards her and nodded.

Closing her eyes, she lost herself to the power that allowed her to rise from a simple village girl, to a prophetess of Saleucami. Through the force she could see the potential fortunes or misfortunes of individuals. In focusing on the dark, she could see the potential futures, the legends and infinities, what could have been. Her eyes went white as she looked and saw two diverging paths. A young man lost to the darkness, a being of pure darkness, the blood of his enemies around him. No greater than an animal, a being lost to rage and sorrow, screaming in pain and clutching his head as fire raged around him and lightning above him. Second, a man in black armour, the helmet seemingly like it came from a primitive world, red eyes glowing through the slit on the visor, a red sabre with a crossguard on it glowing in his hand. Sith ships moved at his command, and he overlooked a grand army of troopers in black.

"Two paths available to him," she whispered.

"Only two? We'll have to wait and see, and his name?" her master asked.

"The embodiment of darkness, Darth Riser, Daylen Amell," she said before collapsing.

Her master huffed and looked towards the grand arena.

"Let's see how this plays out," he said.

* * *

Kalla the Hutt's palace

Daylen stood in front of the tusked Rancor, growling as much as the beast did. The red haze rose from his body, and his eyes burned with the power of the dark side. Black rings formed around his eyes as he took a step forward, his severed arm hanging off of his elbow. Above them, the people looked on in fear, Torvan in fascination and Talon with interest. Both saw an opportunity in Daylen, one to profit from a fighter, and one to gain an acolyte in the dark side. Talon could feel raw darkness emanating from Daylen, what her master no doubt sensed in him. The Rancor stampeded forward, but stopped when Daylen raised his hand.

"Through the force, you can suggest things to the weak minded, when it comes to non-sapient creatures, you can take complete control," Kaius said behind Daylen.

The Rancor yelled, gripping its head and thrashing around.

"Of course, such a process is painful when used invasively through the dark side, yet, it makes a good distraction," Kaius smirked.

Daylen raised his elbow, spraying a stream of blood onto the Rancor's face. He snarled, having missed his target, burning through only the Rancor's tusk. As the tusk fell, Daylen ran forward. He threw the bone that had taken his arm, striking the Rancor's chest and making him stumble back. Grabbing the tusk, Daylen jumped off of the Rancor's knee and plunged the tusk through the creature's jaw. It let out a horrific and rage filled roar, trying to strike Daylen in midair. But Daylen twisted, rolling over the Rancor's claw.

"The force can be used to amplify your body, allowing you to perform physical feats many others can't...what, you didn't think that all those force users were just that naturally flexible and fast did you?"

Kaius's voice in his ear angered Daylen further, driving him deeper. Black mist rose from his arms as he ran up the Rancor's arm, his blood burning a line up the creature's limp. He jumped off of the Rancor's back and, as he span in midair, the blood became solid, forming a barbed chain. It sliced the Rancor's back and calf, making it collapse. Daylen landed on the ground, rolling until he hit the wall.

"Not the smoothest of landings there," Daveth said.

"Daylen, don't do this, through blood magic you already took yourself dangerously close to possession when you fought Kaius, now you're drawing on the dark side of the force, it could destroy you," Greagoir explained.

The ghosts faded as Daylen got up off of the floor. Waving his elbow around, a line of blood appeared in front of him. The line began to bubble, the blood expanding as it formed a complex shape. It began to form a smooth shaft attached to a blade, as soon as Daylen grabbed the spear with his cybernetic hand, spikes began appearing across the shaft.

"What is this, by the force," Torvan muttered, awestruck by the display of power.

Then he grinned, he would never let Daylen go. If he could harness such power, he would have more than a champion of the arena. Daylen roared as he took a running start and threw the spear. It created a sonic boom, slamming into the Rancor's eye and knocking it against the wall. Rocks came down from the ceiling, some of the people above even stumbled as the ground shook. Oola sheltered her body, some of the smaller stones striking her. She looked up, and saw the rocks floating above her. Then she looked to Daylen, seeing his hand extended.

"Still trying to be the hero I see," Kaius shook his head.

"Always, I knew it Daylen," Jowan said.

Daylen looked at his elbow, at the blood floating in and out of it. He looked at his hand, a robotic hand using the force to hold back rubble, to save a life he had endangered.

"No, a life you have saved Daylen," Petra said.

'What am I doing?' Daylen wondered, the yellow fading from his eyes.

The darkness and the blood magic faded too, and Daylen lowered his head in shame.

"You STUPID FOOL!" Kaius yelled.

Suddenly, the Rancor lunged forward, an object tackled Daylen at the last moment. He widened his eyes, Oola, having summoned her courage she pushed him out of the way. But the Rancor's jaws snapped over her left foot, the needle like teeth piercing her shin. She screamed as the Rancor dangled her off of the ground, swiping its claws at Daylen. He jumped back, barely dodging the claws.

'No, no, don't let her die,' he told himself. 'Don't let anyone else die!'

Their faces flashed before his eyes, all those he had lost, those whom he had led into their deaths. Even those he had killed himself. He yelled, and in a flash of red light, he was on the Rancor's head. Roaring like an animal, Daylen punched the Rancor's eye, piercing through it. He followed through on the punch, digging it deeper and deeper. The blinded creature screamed, dropping its potential food and stumbling back. Daylen kept on digging until the Rancor thrashed around, trying to throw him off. The Rancor slammed the side of its head against the rocks, nearly hitting Daylen. Seeing an opportunity, Daylen twisted his arm inside the creature's head. It faced the wall and ran towards it. Daylen ripped his arm out of the Rancor's brain at the last moment, jumping as the Rancor ran head first into the wall. There was a sickening crunch before the Rancor fell back, dead.

'Move, come on Daylen, move,' he crawled across the floor towards Oola.

He had to do what he could to heal her, even if it did involve blood magic. If he waited too long, then she could lose her...

The butt of a rifle slammed into the back of his head, knocking him unconscious. Torvan looked down at Kalla's guards, and then at Kalla herself. He would not have his property disposed of. Rancors were rare, but he could afford the investment of paying for it to save 13's life. Maximus stood in the corner, a small smirk on his face, again he had not been wrong.

* * *

Daylen opened his eyes, everything seemed hazy, and when it came into focus he looked upon the walls of his quarters at the circle tower. He could feel the uncomfortable and itchy fabric of his robes. Rising, he looked to his side and saw a red haired elf girl in the female equivalent of the circle robes. She smiled at him and he lowered his head.

"This is a dream," he said.

"Of course," a voice said behind him.

He turned on the bed and saw a brown haired man in brown and red circle robes.

"That doesn't mean it can't be a good dream," he said.

Daylen though kept his head down. The man sighed and waved the elf girl aside, she scowled, taking on the form of a Desire demon before disappearing.

"I'm still connected to the Fade?" Daylen asked, raising his head.

"Of course, you wouldn't have been able to use your magic otherwise, mages themselves are conduits to the fade," Mouse said.

He was the demon of pride that Daylen encountered during his Harrowing. The test of whether he would give into temptation, he deduced Mouse's identity. But the demon was a rarity, a Pride demon whom took on the weak form of a mouse. Daylen looked at his hands, real in this place.

"But I can't use magic like I did before," he said.

"Maybe not, I suppose you could always use blood magic, but then again, such a thing can be foolish to rely on. If you use too much blood, you'll of course pass out, forcing you to rely on the dark side to counteract this, still, if you use too much blood you will die, dark side or not. That is if you're willing to compromise, to cross into the acts of magic some would deem, unnatural," Mouse explained.

Daylen stood and looked up at the ceiling.

"I will escape, I will free the other slaves, and I will return to Thedas, and fight the Sith," he said, voice filled with determination.

"That's the spirit," Mouse grinned, clapping his hands in applause. "I look forward to seeing whether you'll lose yourself Daylen," he said.

* * *

He awoke and looked up at his cell ceiling, as he had expected he had been given a new replacement arm and hand. Also as he expected, Torvan and Maximus were standing outside his cell door.

"Ah, our latest investment is awake," Torvan smirked.

Daylen slid to his knees and looked up at the two men. The calm that was in his eyes shocked both men. Torvan was taken aback, and Maximus saw a man whom had regained his bearings. This was a different man than the one they had being dealing with.

"This afternoon, your next battle will be this afternoon, we'll see if you die this time," Torvan said, huffing.

Maximus stepped away from the wall as Torvan walked away.

"I saw a warrior once with an expression like yours, man had lost everything, then he got back up after weeping, and with great clarity proceeded to take his revenge on those whom had wronged him," Maximus explained.

Daylen remained silent, crossing his fingers together and leaning forward. Seeing that there would be no conversation with the slave, Maximus turned and began walking away.

"I remember how you talked, about your people, about the war you fought. This isn't honourable either, an honourable fight is still out there," Daylen explained.

Maximus took a moment to listen to what Daylen said. He shook his head, denying the possibilities in Daylen's words before he walked away. Again Daylen was denied food, but canisters of water and a bowl of scraps was slid through his door. Daylen looked up, seeing Moorint standing on the other side.

"Thank you," the Twi'lek whispered.

When training began, Daylen was paired with an alien. That alien fought with a shock stick, and was surprised when Daylen held his own. He spotted Torvan smiling with satisfaction.

"Do you speak basic?" Daylen asked, holding the blue skinned, red eyed man's wrist.

"Better than I speak any other language, you must be from far, far away, the large majority of people at least understand basic but are more comfortable speaking their own language," the man explained.

"So most people here just speak their native language and don't bother using the same language to communicate?" Daylen asked.

"That's pretty much it, I spent most of my life crewed with humans, so I tend to use basic," the alien man explained, stepping away from Daylen and getting back into a fighting stance.

"What's your name, and what species are you, if you don't mind me asking?" Daylen asked.

The question took the man aback. He tilted his head and thought over it before chuckling.

"I'm a Duros, Shriv Suurgav at your service," the man said.

They continued sparring, until told to switch partners. Daylen was reequipped with a staff and faced a familiar Twi'lek.

"You don't know much about anything do you?" Moorint asked, brandishing a pair of wooden swords.

"There are a lot of things I don't know, I speak a little bit of the Twi'lek language but just a few words, how come you guys aren't always speaking it?" Daylen asked.

"We are migrants, we don't use the language of our planet, the accent typical of it or even the clothing. Us migrants are an independent lot, we make our own clothes, our own dwellings, our own food," Moorint explained.

"It sounds as if you were free before," Daylen said.

"Yes, we were," Moorint paused for a moment, shaking his head to forget those now gone times.

He hit Daylen's staff with a flurry of blows, eventually tripping Daylen.

"Thank you for the food," Daylen said.

"Thank you for Oola," Moorint retorted, offering Daylen his hand.

"What happened to her?" he asked.

Moorint's expression became morose and he looked down as he spoke.

"Kalla called her useless, the Rancor bit her foot off, she can't dance as she used to anymore. The Hutt was going to cast her aside, but Torvan bought her, gave her a peg leg and then dumped her with the other women as household slaves," Moorint explained.

Daylen adjusted his stance and grip, clashing with Moorint a few more times before bringing his staff to Moorint's neck.

"The women of your group, are their fighters amongst them?" he asked.

"Better than some of us," Moorint retorted, pointing to the collar still across Daylens neck. "If you're thinking of something, just know there are a lot of people who would prefer to live, even if it meant being chained," Moorint said.

"Even if the chains are simply a path to slow suicide?" Daylen asked.

It was a question Moorint could not bring himself to answer. Free time was given, and in that time Daylen tried to learn as much as he could about the different species he was with, and more importantly about the people. He got beaten up by the group of Zabrak men, though he learned what species they were at least and that they had been sold from a place called Dathomir. The lizard man he tried to interact with had apparently been like him, sitting himself away in his cell, refusing to eat or fight and earning him a shock collar.

"I would leave the Trandoshan alone boy," Vim said, helping him up off of the floor.

He had been knocked out of the cell by the Trandoshan himself.

"Why does he do that?" Daylen asked.

"Probably not for as deep as reasons as you did, at least from our point of view. Trandoshan's worship the scorekeeper, it is how they base their lives, they are hunters you see and throughout their lives they accumulate points for the scorekeeper. Think of it as a literal form of karma, it is their code of honour you could say," Vim explained.

"So what happened?"

"When he was captured, the points he had accumulated over his life became null, he lost all honour I suppose you could say," Vim said.

Daylen looked through the cell door, at the green scaled Trandoshan and noted a potential ally. He turned around, spotting a Twi'lek with one of his head tails cut off. He wasn't part of Moorints group, and Daylen could see that the man was a fighter of lifestyle, scars on his body indicative of that. Daylen was about to try and meet the man when droids came to get him. They pushed him to walk through Torvan's house, Daylen noted the slave pen door, unlocked by one of the droids. He noted the structure of the house itself, positions of consoles, air ducts, droid patrols and which servants are working at the time. By the time he had reached Torvan's office, Daylen had an awareness of the house and what a bad escape plan would be at least. Clearly his brief use of the force and magic together, to survive the vacuum of space had not protected him completely, his photographic memory was not as good as it had once been. Some details escaped him, the colour of the wall tiles, the faces of the servants. More would need to be done before he had fully memorised his new home, and could compose a way to escape it.

"Slave number 13, the red eyed stranger, you have cost me a great of credits, you have much to do to earn it back," Torvan explained.

"Yes, master," Daylen said.

The words clearly pleased Torvan, who walked to a holographic display of an older member of his species, perhaps his father. He looked at it with pride, not just for his lineage, but he promise that he would surpass it. Daylen cast his eyes to a green skinned Twi'lek woman, about his age. She had the bruises that came with defiance, and a shock collar around her neck too. But there was still that defiance in her eyes, the same eyes Daylen had.

"It is time to prove if you have what it takes to be a champion, or just another sacrifice for the arena. Lord Krayt will be there, I trust you will not be stupid enough to attack him again," Torvan said.

"No master," Daylen said to appease him.

"Excellent, then let us go and have glorious battles!" Torvan poured himself a glass of wine and toasted.

As Daylen was led out of the office, Daylen crossed eyes with the Twi'lek girl. Ranna Tao'Ven's heart skipped a beat. Not because of any sort of attraction that may have been ignited that day. But because she recognised that Daylen's eyes were the same as hers. The eyes of someone whom desired freedom, and to protect those who were left. She had finally found an ally.

* * *

The arena was booming, shaking from the cheers of those whom watched. Krayt sat upon the throne, Kalla a short distance from him and his acolytes. She feared the dark Jedi more than anyone. That fear faded as they drew closer and closer to the event that everyone was eager for. The red eyed stranger against Raknar Tib's fighter. The human slaver had invested a great deal of credits into the cybernetic enhancement of a shamed republic soldier. Markus Grant had been a veteran of the Mandalorian war, but had killed prisoners of war. He was discharged from the republic military and turned bounty hunter afterwards. Though he had had some success, he eventually incurred a huge gambling debt and had to start serving Raknar. He emerged from the gate to thunderous applause. His greying hair rested on his shoulders, he wore a brown muscle shirt and faded orange, republic style armour on his lower legs. Hydraulic pumps and mechanical mechanisms ran the length of his legs, connecting to armour on his knees and thick metal boots. The harness he wore attached the same kind of tech to his arms. He carried a tech mace, electricity crackling across it, and a tech axe, the blade heated until it glowed orange.

"Ladies and gentlemen, presenting the champion of the Tibia Weapons and armour industry, a veteran of one of the greatest conflicts in the galaxy, with a body count reaching fifty five, outside of the arena," the announcer said to the amusement of the watchers. "Enhanced with Tibia-Tech battle harness Mark 5 edition and Tibia-Tech spinal and ocular implants and armed with melee tech that can make a Jedi's guard stumble, I present to you, the human battle droid, MARKUS GRANT!"

Markus scraped his weapons together and raised them high, drinking in the applause. Across the distance of the arena, Kalla nodded to Raknar. This did not go unnoticed by Talon, even without the force it was clear a plot had been enacted. Again the scales had been tipped, pairing the red eyed stranger with a veteran fighter. They suspected he would lose because of inexperience. The gates opened and the difference between the fighters and their masters became clear. He walked out to applause, wearing baggy trousers and worn boots. A patched up guard had been put on his shoulder and a glove with an armoured bangle on it covered his right hand. His new cybernetic arm had ancient gladiatorial armour covering it. He carried on his shoulder a massive saw cleaver.

"Presenting to you, the new champion of the Renal trading company, he caused an uproar in his first match by killing the champions of our very own Kalla the Hutt, and attacking guests with his mysterious power. This just in, he also killed a rare albino, tusked Rancor, again displaying an incredible power. What tricks will this new and mysterious fighter show us today folks, I give you THE RED EYED STRANGER!" the announcer yelled and the arena shook again.

"LET THE GAMES BEGIN!"

Daylen walked towards his opponent. Markus's cybernetics made him noticeably taller than Daylen. Naturally, Daylen knew he was taller, but that Markus had the more toned muscle mass. Even without cybernetics, Markus, though older would be stronger than him in terms of muscle power. He looked at Markus and was reminded of Loghain, a veteran of war and painted by that experience.

"I don't want to fight you," Daylen said.

"We all have to fight kid, you'll kill me or I'll kill you, don't try to sympathise with me because believe me I don't give a shit whether you live or die, or if the person who comes after you lives or dies. All that matters is survival, mercy will get you into trouble," Markus swung his weapons around, a challenge.

Daylen swung his weapon, flipping the saw blade out of the handle. He gripped the make shift great sword with both hands, as he had seen many warriors in training do. Markus rushed forward at incredible speed, swinging his axe and making Daylen duck. Daylen aimed the sword for the hydraulics on Markus's legs, if he could just crush those then he had an advantage. Markus brought his mace downwards, catching Daylen's sword and making him stumble back. Daylen dragged his sword across the floor and attempting to strike Markus. This time though Markus parried the blade with his mace and swung his axe. Daylen tilted his head back at the last moment, narrowly avoiding the heated blade.

'He's analysing his opponent, improving as he fights him. But, if Markus had these enhancements when he was at his prime, the kid wouldn't stand a chance. The advantage he has as he is now, is the fact that his opponent has aged reduced abilities,' Maximus summarised.

Talon theorised a similar hypothesis, that Daylen would have been dead already if he fought a younger Markus Grant. She watched him barely block and dodge Markus's strikes. Daylen attempted to slash Markus's leg hydraulics again, but had his blade kicked aside. The saw cleaver span, landing in the ground. Markus then thrust his leg at Daylen, the young man raised his hands. The kick landed and Daylen was sent flying back, sliding across the sand and onto his back. Daylen got up off of the floor, much to Markus's shock. The moment replayed in his mind, and he shook his head in frustration.

'Looks like he's utilising his own upgrades too, he raised his hands, and used them to cushion the impact of my kick, clever,' he thought.

Steam came out of his armour as he crouched. There was a boom, sand being thrown up behind him and he launched himself at his opponent, swinging his axe towards Daylen's face.

'Projectile magic is out of the question now, but that doesn't mean you can't utilise magic. Pick and choose the traits of each branch, focus on mixing them together. Rock armour doesn't have to be rock armour, phasing doesn't have to end at just passing through a person, and the fire doesn't have to come from your hands,' Daylen thought as the weapons came towards him.

His body flickered like a ghost.

'That's it, fade shroud to partially exist in the physical realm, now, pass the electricity element through your entire being!' the mage told himself.

As Markus swung his axe through Daylen's body, the blade passed through the mage. Markus widened his eyes, he knew he hit Daylen. The electricity surged through his right arm, shutting down the hydraulics on it for a moment.

'Now with his guard, apply the principals of rock armour to just the right arm, focus, focus on making my body as hard as rock, boosting my defence. But don't stop there, focus fire through the rock, to create...'

Markus turned to Daylen in horror as the young man's right arm was covered in glowing red and black rock, forming a fist around his arm.

'MAGMA ARMOUR!' Daylen swung his fist around.

Markus lifted his mace, the fist snapping through the weapon and striking his face. He was thrown back by the force of it, yelling as part of his face burned. The cybernetic warrior got off of the floor, his cybernetics active again, pumping drugs into his system to fight off the pain of his burnt face. He reared his axe back and threw it.

'You don't have hands, but you are still a mage, your body is the conduit, so eject the fire through your feet if you have to,' Daylen grit his teeth together, feeling his boots burn.

There was an explosion, launching Daylen into the air. He was bare foot, the fire having come from the middle of his feet.

'Now fade step, but not with ice,' he created an explosion with his feet, then used the fade step spell to launch himself at Markus.

Applying he fade shroud at the same time, he also mixed it with two elements other than ice. Electricity surged through Markus's cybernetics as Daylen passed through him, and fire scolded him, fusing some of the hydraulics to his skin as Daylen reappeared behind him.

'Hexes are usually cast with hands at a distance, but they can be cast through touch too, so, pass it through something besides the hand,' Daylen slammed his head into Markus, knocking the older man back, a spark crackling between the two.

Daylen moved in, delivering a flurry of punches to Markus's body and face. The old soldier tried to punch back, but strikes were always misses.

'I'm still a mage of the circle, I'm still a mage of the circle, I'M STILL A MAGE OF THE CIRCLE!' Daylen yelled inwardly, delivering two body shots before slamming his elbow into Markus's chin.

Markus's eyes opened and he yelled. His gauntlets expanded, releasing a hum. Suddenly, Daylen was thrown back, sand thrown on top of him. The crowd grew silent, and Krayt's followers rushed to the edge of the balcony.

"That was no force push," Nihl said.

"Impossible, there were no records of Markus being force sensitive," Maladi said.

"He isn't!"

Kalla looked at Krayt in fear as he rose. He walked to the side of his followers, all of them bowing their heads. He placed his hand on the balcony ledge, squeezing the stone on it.

"Using technology to mimic use of the force, pretender," he growled.

Markus raised his hand, the machines on his gauntlets hummed again. His axe flew back into his hand and he turned to Daylen. The young mage got up off of the floor, spitting blood from his cut lip. Blood and sand, his hair was coated with the sand and he had been partially blinded. Daylen looked towards his opponent and prepared himself.

"You aren't the only one with tricks kid," Markus removed a stim from his belt and injected it through his neck.

Brandishing his axe, Markus rushed towards Daylen again.

Next Episode 27: Lost Secrets

* * *

Markus Grant is an OC, for his weapons think the Surge game. A return to Thedas next time, and a return to Canus the Sith warrior.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age or Star Wars

This chapter technically makes this two additional franchise crossovers, if you figured out which (I mean one isn't subtle :) I obviously don't own them.

* * *

Dragon Wars: The Force of Others

Episode 27: Lost secrets

She had worn her Chantry robes at the time, and looked upon Dorothea, a Revered Mother of the Valence Chantry. Whilst she wore the black robes of the Imperial Chant, at her heart she still believed in the original teachings, or at least what was close to those teachings. Back then, Leliana looked at Dorothea as a source of inspiration, her very reason for dedicating herself to the chantry.

"When I was younger, I joined an imperial expedition into Elven territory," Dorothea began, watering her flowers.

"It was where Elven sentinels had been hiding, the original servants of the elven pantheon. They had resided in a type of suspended animation, a deep sleep that halted their aging and enabled them to protect their holy site. But this was no temple dedicated to any of the elven warlords whom claimed the title god. In fact, there was something older about what they protected, something otherworldly," the last word made Leliana tremble.

"Whilst others lost themselves in the knowledge that the chantry had been right in calling the elf beliefs wrong, I saw the truth in the lesson of that expedition. The Sith were not just here for our Lyrium, magic or the other wonders of our world, but for what had been left behind by our ancestors," Leliana widened her eyes.

"The original humans whom came to this world, whom disrupted the balance of power in the elven homelands and whom left ancient technology for us to find. Technology Leliana, that we can use to free our world, to free it my child!"

To free it, Leliana remembered those words as the gears of the lift turned. They had to take one of the old entrances to the deep roads, a wooden lift operated by gears and chains, not a turbo lift installed by the empire. It cost them a day, and they ended up camping for the night, not that one could tell in the deep roads. Leliana's chronometer was the only thing that told them of how much time was going by. Sten put together flame torches, and Zevran used a flash light he had stolen. As they walked through the dwarf made, and even Darkspawn made structures, Leliana stared at the holographic gauntlet. A construct formed from a tiny chip in her arm, it had served as a key to the old font of ancient knowledge. It's glow seemed to intensify as they got closer and closer to where the Venatori had marked the site.

"So what exactly did we find the last time, bunch of numbers and some vague warning," Oghren muttered.

"Yeah, shouldn't we worry about that?" Zevran asked.

"We keep going," Sten said.

Though he had been gruff about it, Leliana agreed. She didn't want to worry about the reasons why these caches were here yet, these were questions they could answer once they had defeated the Sith and restore the natural order.

'No, not restore, create something new,' she thought.

Dorothea told her how things had been before. The Chantry preaching, yet failing to live up to its own ideals. It was selective in who it helped, and Leliana always found their treatment of mages appalling. She wanted the Chantry to be what it had always said it was, a beacon for others. Her faith wavered sometimes, it made her envy Daylen Amell in a way. The man she met spat upon the ideal of belief in a god, yet, he believed in something and had his own faith. That belief in people was something she shared, even if she was cautious because of her work as a spy. They came to a split in the cavern, and saw on the walls the scorch marks of blaster fire.

"Battle, recently too," Sten said.

"Yet, no corpses," Zevran noted.

"No blood too, they could have gotten spooked," Oghren said.

"I doubt it, tracks split apart, the bulk of the group ran to the right and the rest continued on the path to our cache," Leliana explained.

"Could the Venatori have told them?" Zevran asked.

"Likely yes," Sten said.

"They still can't get through without the key," Leliana said.

She walked down the path, despite the confusion of her companions.

"What about what they were chasing?" Oghren asked.

"Right now we should focus on the path ahead of us, and getting to the ancient tech!"

The trio nodded their heads and ran after Leliana.

* * *

Alistair stood with his yellow sabre pike at the ready. He followed Irving's movements, focusing on the glowing tip of his staff. Suddenly, Irving threw his hand forward. Alistair blocked the mana shot, and raised his sabre to bat aside the follow up shot from Irving's staff. Irving tapped his staff against the ground twice, psyching Alistair out before releasing small wisps of mana from his staff. Alistair blocked one before the other three struck his hip. He fell onto the shuttle floor, deactivating his sabre and hitting the ground in frustration.

"That was better than before," Irving said.

"Which is what you said the last time," Varric's voice echoed from the cockpit.

"How's your box Tethras, you can still reach the controls right?" Alistair shot back.

"Remember, you must feel the force flow through you," Irving said.

"Not right now Irving, there's clearly no progress in this," Alistair said.

"Not if you give up like that!"

With a shake of his head, Alistair went to the cockpit. He sat in the co-pilot seat next to Varric.

"So, learning about the force huh, you know, I got targeted as force sensitive," Varric said.

"Being a good liar during a card game isn't being force sensitive Varric," Alistair huffed.

"I respectfully resent the accusation, card games isn't all about bull shitting you know. It's also about being able to see through bull shit too. You see whether it's Pazaak or diamond back, you're reliant on your ability to see your opponent's hand through their body language. Is the nervous expression a lie to get you overconfident? Or do they really have a bad hand?"

"It's a game involving cards, it's all in the luck of the draw," Alistair said.

"In my experience there's no such thing as luck," Irving said, walking to the cockpit.

"So you're really going to find a dragon on the Storm Coast?" Varric asked.

"A Vinsomer, as opposed to projecting fire from its breath, it creates electricity," Irving said.

"And what's the imperial interest in it?"

"Back when I was a Knight-Trooper I heard that the empire was capturing dragons," Alistair said. "We're a weapon's provider for them, mages, dragons, demons, even our own people."

"Exploitation of a region's resources is natural during any occupation," Irving said.

"It's why every occupation occurs anyway, to exploit something you don't have," Varric muttered.

"But if we kill the Vinsomer, or at least drive it away then..."

"Alistair, our goal isn't to kill the dragon, it's for you to tame it," Irving said.

Alistair lowered his head, not liking the mage's faith in him. He still felt as if the man's belief was misplaced, and that his teachings would be a waste for him. The former knight-trooper stood up and walked over to the equipment locker.

"What were we able to gleam about the imperial presence there?" he asked.

"My contacts told me that the imps created a station on an island near the coast. Before they arrived an anthropologist determined that the island was where the dragon slept, brought back its food and shot out its eggs," Varric explained, causing Alistair to look over at him.

"Dragon's reproduce a-sexually," Irving clarified.

"So what are the options?" Alistair asked, taking out a stun club and electrifying it a few times.

"We can't fly in because we don't have the landing codes, and they have a few anti-air turrets. But an assault by sea could work out, capture of the Vinsomer wasn't a high priority for them, so they're operating at minimum crew. They have been facing a small rebel cell known as the Blades of Hessarian," Varric explained.

"An Andrastian cult that has a very unique perspective on Hessarian's mercy killing of Andraste," Irving said.

"Bandits with bows and a few blasters, they were able to build sail speeders though, and they never had a mage to protect them from repeater blaster fire so you'll have that going for you when you join them."

"Varric, aren't you coming with us?" Alistair asked.

"No can do prince, I've got a delivery to make for Mr Damask and then Dagna," Varric said.

"How are they both doing?" Irving asked.

"Dagna's using that knowledge you secured from the first font to make some weapons we don't have to steal and can mass produce with materials we have on hand. She mentioned something about chemical reactions and propelling of lead projectiles, but it all went past my head anyway...besides who reads a story and expects an explanation on how something works?" Varric huffed.

"And Damask?" Alistair asked.

* * *

Still within the Thedas/Bendu system, there was a small facility built into a planetoid. A factory owned by the Bith Rugess Nome, a prominent developer of star fighters. But the Bith watching the cranking machinery inside his factory was not Rugess Nome, nor was he Darth Tenebrous. Venamis was the genetically engineered offspring of Tenebrous, and had been commanded by his master to serve the grand plan by assisting the rebellion. His master, not his father, was an extradouinarly powerful Sith, one whom had unlocked secrets that Tenebrous sought for so long. Secrets that Venamis's rival and partner also sought. Hego Damask entered the factory, strolling along the walkway in his fine red and blue robes, flanked by the yellow armoured Sunguards.

But they were just for show, Hego Damask, the Sith Lord Darth Plagueis could kill as much with a thought as he could with his bare hands. His species possessed great strength as well as spare vital organs. Also joining Plagueis was a brown haired human woman in professional clothing, his assistant. On the far side of the room, watching the production in awe was Josephine Montilyet, dressed in her yellow and blue clothes.

"Incredible," she said, walking to Venamis's side.

"The materials you and the dwarf were able to secure have been invaluable, it will not do for the alliance to simply use stolen Sith fighters. You will need something to not just differentiate yourselves from them, but surpass them too," Venamis explained.

"Well said Rugess, that was my thoughts exactly when I contacted you," Plagueis said.

Josephine looked over the blue prints, fighters titled simply A,B,Y and X.

"What about pilots?" she asked.

"Finding suitable test pilots will be your prerogative Miss Montilyet," Plagueis's assistant said.

"I am aware of at least two candidates, academy pilots disillusioned with the empire," Josephine said.

"Recruiting them will be up to you, know that for now, I will be creating four prototypes of each type and will require you to find pilots by the end of the month," Venamis said.

Josephine widened her eyes, looking at the Bith as if he had grown an extra head. The task alone was difficult enough. Some people in Thedas could at least fly ships, but performing the necessary moves to make an effective fighter pilot was rare right now for people from Thedas. The mages of the circle and other resistance fighters had barely been able to fly their stolen fighters, and they all ended up dead anyway.

"Why the end of the month though?" she asked.

"It would appear that Loghain and Gaspard have bigger plans than they are sharing with their commanders right now," Plagueis mused.

"This is an important mission, one I know I must carry out if I am to prove my worth to the alliance."

"It is more than that my dear, the survival of the alliance and its future success is at stake here," Venamis stated.

Plagueis rolled up his sleeve, checking his chronometer, he nodded to Venamis, whom had done the same thing.

"Montilyet, Rugess and I have other matters to discuss in private, perhaps you could discuss further operations and intel with my assistant, would you mind Shmi?"

"Of course not Mr Damask, please come with me Miss Montilyet!"

The two women walked in the opposite direction as the Bith and Muun. Both walked through a door on the far end of the walkway. It was Rugess's office, filled with memorabilia from Bith. Venamis pushed a button underneath his desk, sliding it away to reveal a holo pad. The Sith lords knelt as the holopad activated, revealing the masked face of their master. Whom, light years away resided on Korvis with his Knights of Ren.

"Master," both said.

"It's about time you two answered, I was tempted to move on," he said.

"The rebels are continuing to gather strength, to strike out at the Imperial occupation," Venamis said.

"Tell me!"

Plaguies closed his eyes and took a deep breath, before he relayed the story.

"The Free Marches, former bounty Hunter, former Chantry priest Sebastian Vael has proclaimed himself the Prince of Starkhaven. He assassinated the governess of the city, Johane Harimann. A Desire demon was apparently involved, but from what I know the surviving members of the Harimann family are part of Vael's caravan. The Starkhaven archery corps has declared loyalty to their prince. They evacuated the city before Sith bombers destroyed it. Survivors of Starkhaven have been moving from village and town, spreading the story of Vael's rise and the Imperials disposing of Starkhaven. The archery corps has hit imperial caravans across the Green Dales and the Weyrs. They have joined with two Dalish clans. Then they destroyed a munitions' factory in Ansburg and then the fighter factory at Bastion, though not before taking six Tie Fighters.

"Nevarra, the Mortalitasi have come out of hiding, reanimating corpses from the crypts to attack imperial soldiers. Governor Martin was ripped apart by these corpses, but that is not where the true damage came from. Cumberland recently became the site of a recruitment drive by the rebellion. One Marian Hawke and her rebel cell infiltrated the city and whispered of rebelling, then gave a cry to the people to rise up, beginning riots on the street and a mass evacuation into Planasene Forest, where nature manipulating mages destroyed the imperial legion sent to hunt them down. Hawke's cell consists of herself, her cousin Charade Amell, the Ferelden Aveline Vallen, the elf mage fugitive Sketch and former Legionnaire of the dead Sigrun. They moved to the Arlesans region and took a large number of speeders from a factory, not before blowing it up of course.

"Antiva was hit by the cell commanded by Marian's sister Bethany Hawke, a mage, she rallied the mage underground there to take an imperial academy in Antiva city. She disrupted attempts to indoctrinate the students there and led them to join the rebellion. Her cell consists of the son of Rendon Howe, Nathaniel Howe, a former slave known as Fenris, a BB series droid designated F8-B1, an elf archer Sera and a Wookie pilot named Iapa. After securing an army, they moved onto Seleny, stole four B-28 Extinction class Bombers and then proceeded to destroy the fighter factory.

"In the Anderfels, the cell under the command of the Qunari Tallis has met difficulty from the imperial forces there. She commanded a former Knight-trooper Cairn, a Reaver Nyree and a Dalish mage Josmael. But they have had limited success, nowhere near the level of other cells. The situation in the Anderfels only shifted when a new cell, bold enough to leave their name at the scene, took a gunship and two tanks from Kassel, before destroying the garrison at Tallo. The Bull's Chargers they call themselves. Though there is limited information, save for the fact that their leader may possibly be Kossith

"The Last that was seen of the smuggler Isabela, she had joined with Dalish mage Velanna and some golem called Shale in rallying the people of Rivain. They freed a shipment of slaves, spread a poison through the plumbing of an imperial base and sabotaged the launch of a an imperial academy in Dairsmuid. Escaping by sea, with Dalish clans dedicated to sailing, they were able to take several speeders and boats from the garrison at Llomerynn. Reports also indicated they were using an HK series droid.

"The Qunari have fallen under the command of the Arishok, whom has commenced guerrilla warfare on Imperial facilities. But much like other cells, they have stolen munitions, equipment and information." the Sith Lord explained and looked to his master for a reaction.

"But that's just one region of the world, tell me, what else is happening elsewhere. What about the rest of the world?" the masked man asked, opening his arms to convey his point.

"Fighting has begun everywhere," Venamis began, smirking as Plagueis glared at him.

"The Islands of the East where the Samurai and Oni reside, the new world of the root mages and the human tribes that have embraced the way of the Dalish and nature, the land of Jade where Sagacious Tien has become their answer to Daylen Amell, and the frost regions where elves and humans live in harmony and master the giants of ice. And many more places, it is a whole planet after all," the masked man laughed.

As the Sith lords conversed, Josephine walked with Damask's assistant. She marvelled at the models of luxury cruise liners and parts of old ships.

"My father recently received a small corvette for transporting goods, but I had no idea that there were ships as grand as this," she said.

"There are many types of ships," Shmi said.

"Your accent is not imperial," Josephine noted.

"There are a great many imperial accents Lady Montilyet. But no, I am not from the imperial core, in fact I'm from somewhere much further away!"

"How did you come to be in Mr Damask's employ?" Josephine asked.

"I was a slave, Damask and a friend of his purchased me from my former master, I served them until two years ago, when my indentured service contract reached its end. But I had no other skills, and no real desire to see anything else in the galaxy," Shmi explained.

"So you continued to serve, what of this friend of Damask's?"

"He wanders the galaxy, some people want to see more of it, now let's sort out possible collection dates and good areas to recruit!"

* * *

Deep Roads

Leliana and her group continued following the path. Along the way they killed a few Deep stalkers and found the corpses of some unlucky troopers. Though they clearly weren't what had driven the squadron to split. They came to an open cavern, with a deep dive into a dark abyss. Lights had been drilled into the walls, and the remains of a Venatori camp were nearby. Old trays and crumbs from food were set out across the tables, and scorch marks from blasters. Zevran knelt by one of the mark.

"This isn't from an E-11 or a DH-17," the assassin said. "I'd stretch it to say that it's a blaster scorch at all."

"What do you mean?" Leliana asked, kneeling beside Zevran.

"Blasters traditionally use compressed Tibana gas with a power pack to create a particle beam. This seems more like a scorch from a lightning bolt, but, hold on," Zevran dipped his head down and sniffed the region. "That smell is a bit like Lyrium, but there's something different about it I can't quite pin down."

"Where are the bodies?" Sten asked.

Leliana widened her eyes, putting one hand on her pistol and looking around. The Venatori had abandoned the camp after the imperials took over. But the soldiers had lost their battle, their bodies should have still been present. Whatever attacked the imps wasn't alone, I think I know what happened to the bodies," Oghren said, picking up an arrow.

It was a savage and cruel design, chemicals dripping off of the tip.

"Darkspawn," Sten said.

"So they kill the imperials for us, seems a little too good to be true," Oghren huffed.

"I think they drew the imperials into some kind of automated defence system, then the darkspawn took the bodies for their own tastes," Zevran said.

"The defence system idea does match what our sources in Tevinter told us," Leliana finally stepped up to the wall.

Looking at it, she could see it was no natural formation. Years underground had given it the appearance of a part of the deep roads, but the oval shape of it, the lines in the rocks showed that it was a doorway. And at the centre of the wall was a hole. Leliana put her hand inside, finding a handle, and with a strong twist she turned the handle. A mechanism sounded, and Leliana stepped back cautiously as the door began to open. Zevran drew his daggers and Sten and Oghren kept their weapons raised. Leliana then drew her pistol, keeping it level as she walked into the chamber. The ground was metallic, dust filled the room, but there was a hum echoing through it. Power flowed through it, drawing on the molten lakes flowing through the rocks outside.

Oghren let out an awed whistle whilst Zevran's jaw was nearly on the floor. Sten seemed stoic as always, on guard more than the others. Leliana activated the holographic gauntlet and walked forward. Her boots tapped against the metallic floor, echoing around her. There was a clicking noise and a section of the ceiling slid out. A pylon came down with a metal eye attached to it. Orbs of energy appeared beside the eye, their forms constantly shifting as they floated over the floor. Leliana tapped a few buttons on the gauntlet, cycling through some of the pockets of information she kept on it. Drones the orbs were called, yet they seemed more like an affect of magic than technology. The eye shot a red light over Leliana, focusing on the gauntlet. She raised it, opening the palm of her hand so that the red light could scan it.

_"Key recognised," _ Leliana heard a voice crackle.

More words echoed out of the walls, a multitude of languages that Leliana recognised from Thedas and others she didn't. A glowing circle appeared on the floor, and a hologram flickered into existence. The group gasped in shock, seeing the form of a human. Though some of his body was obscured they could make out his bald features and eyes.

_"Square root of 841 equals 29, welcome user..."_ there was a crackle and the hologram flickered.

"Human, not an alien woman," Zevran commented.

"Disappointed?" Oghren asked.

"Well, not that there isn't something fascinating about this one," the elf grinned as Oghren rolled his eyes.

_"Vault secure,"_ the hologram said.

"Let's see what we can find, inventory," Leliana said.

_"Square root of 1369 equals 37, Omni-Tech vault..."_ again there was static and Leliana cursed.

"Some of the data must have degraded like the previous vault," she said.

"But it is possible to unlock it and retrieve whatever is inside right?" Zevran asked.

"Maybe, some of the information might even be recoverable. Open vault door!" Leliana commanded.

_"Access code required, the square root of 906.1 equals,"_ the hologram said.

"No static this time, these numbers are getting annoying," Oghren growled.

"I have the key!"

"But it stands to reason that whoever left these things behind wouldn't just leave it to a key to unlock if they had weapons inside them," Zevran said.

_"Guns, no guns, lots of..."_ the hologram flickered for a moment before reappearing. _"The square root of 906.1 equals..."_

"30.1," Sten said.

_"Access code accepted, welcome user!"_

The dwarf, human and elf looked at Sten, dumbfounded.

"Did you just work that out in your head Sten?" Zevran asked.

"Of course I did, hadn't any of you?" Sten asked.

The wall began to slide apart and the platform the group stood on began to slide on a rail like mechanism. Leliana looked at the path ahead and smiled, they were finally making progress.

* * *

Storm Coast

Alistair carried his shield and pick axe over his shoulder, looking back at Varric.

"You're not going with us?" he asked.

"Like I said before Prince I've got other commitments, still will be sure to add this little side encounter to the main story," Varric grinned.

Alistair and Irving shook their heads, the Mabari following after them. The rain batted against their clothes, and in the distance they could see lightning strike some of the rocks. Varric's shuttle flew into the clouds, leaving them behind. Walking over the rocks and bushy plains, they came upon the corpse of a giant. It had become a cushion for blaster fire, marks on its legs indicating that a wire had been used to trip it. Though they were little more than wild beasts, Alistair felt a pang of sympathy for them. Even when it was Orlais governing Ferelden, a balance between man, wildlife and monster was maintained. Ten people for the year would be killed by a giant at the worst of times. The giants had been drawn out by the empire, taken for study and to be used as fodder in whatever war they were prepping themselves for.

"I came to a village here once when I was eighteen," Irving said.

"What was it like then?" Alistair asked.

"You hear so much about Orlesian abuse back then, but here, the villagers made boats for surfing the waves. They were a brave lot, riding even the worst of storms and bringing back hauls of fish. Even the Orlesian mayor respected them," the mage explained.

"What were you there for?"

"A boy here had awakened his magic, it was my first time out and I pictured helping the Templars against a rogue demon. Greagoir was the same I suppose, he was a couple of years younger than me and eager to fight. We both were, but it was a boring time, we picked the new mage up and brought him back to the tower," the melancholy expression on Irving's face told Alistair there was more to the story.

"Was he one of the mages that died on the Star Destroyer?" he asked delicately.

"He died before that, he'd grown into a teacher. But one of his students began taking on Sith teachings. The boy used force strangulation on him, he would have killed him," Irving said, a pang of anger in his eyes.

"What happened?" Alistair asked.

"Daylen, he was younger than the other boy but he..." Irving chuckled and stopped walking.

"What, what did he do?"

"He kicked the boy in his..." Irving motioned to the area and they both laughed.

"So the founder was a trouble maker even back then," Alistair muttered.

"Practical jokes, disobeying his teachers, I still remember the time he broke his shoulder climbing the book cases. Staying up late and telling stories to younger students, falling asleep during Chantry services," Irving explained.

"Understandable," Alistair said.

"Although one time everyone had their heads down in prayer, Daylen put his hand under his arm pit and made this farting sound that echoed through the hall...everyone, even the sisters laughed despite it destroying their reciting of the canticles," the older man leant on his staff and laughed.

Then he grew silent and the melancholy expression returned. His gaze became distant, looking at the lightning and the crashing waves, and the high cliffs. He imagined the reaction of Daylen, of seeing the wonders Ferelden alone was capable of.

'Wherever you are now Daylen, are you seeing wonders?' Irving wondered.

"But the teacher Daylen tried to save died anyway, the doctors said the shock triggered a stroke, but I always suspected something else," Irving muttered.

"I never questioned it before, but people at my old postings tended to disappear," Alistair said.

They carried on, coming to a cliff face, and with their spy glasses they saw the Imperial base on dragon island. Smaller than they thought it would be, but cannons for shooting down aerial targets, as well as a sizable force of Shore troopers. On their way to the beach, they began to hear the breaking of sticks and rustling of bushes. Alistair nodded to Irving, who tapped his staff to the ground and gathered his mana. A flame formed in his hand and Alistair adjusted the grip of his axe. Slowly they revealed themselves, bows drawn back. They wore some camouflage, stolen bits of trooper armour or whatever they could muster together. Bandits, rebels, they could be called both, and they had the pair and the dog surrounded.

'It doesn't have to come to a fight though,' Alistair looked at the light sabre on his belt.

He dropped his axe and ignited the white sabre. The hiss shocked them, and the sudden appearance of the blade even made some flinch. But when they saw the glowing white beam raised high, they began to lower their weapons. Irving nodded to Alistair proudly, he was beginning to make connections.

* * *

Ophuchi

Dorian looked down at Ophuchi, seeing the multitude of defeated soldiers being loaded up into prison transport ships. The cities were burning, but the battle was over. From the star board observation deck he also watched the Fury Class Interceptor enter hyper space, to go to its next victim.

Canus knelt by the hologram of Darth Baras.

"No sign of Starkiller at all?" the lardy man shook his head in disbelief.

**"It is true master, I searched for them and found nothing, the holocron was not here," **Canus said.

"The campaign was a success, and your successes are my successes as well, is there anything you can report?" Baras asked.

**"Captain Thrennhold showed remarkable tactical awareness and command abilities, his troops also fought well. On the surface a sergeant took command of the remaining occupation troops, when his own commander was killed. Jason Torque insured the survival of his troops as well as a stalemate battle before the arrival of imperial reinforcements,"**

"His captain gave a less favourable review of his performance, but Quinn's report confirmed what you told me. I will see this Jason Torque promoted to the position of commander, and assign his squad to a new command as I will assign you to a new command. Join the exploratory corps on planet 31, they've encountered a relatively intelligent species and have apparently incurred casualties. Learn whatever you can about these people, make contact with them if you can, ensure no one discovers you meeting them," Baras explained.

**"Yes my master," **Canus said.

"I also heard that a mage of Tevinter, Dorian Pavus took part in the operation, what do you make of him?" Baras asked.

**"He should be watched carefully, he showed a disdain for the operation, and his request to accompany Thrennhold was strange in itself."**

He said it without hesitation, without remorse or any feeling at all. It was simply the way of a spy, to turn in another spy. Baras nodded his head, seemingly satisfied with his student's observation.

"My thoughts exactly, I will assign agents to monitor his father, continue my apprentice and bring me more glory," Baras commanded, before his hologram faded.

Canus reached behind his cloak and removed the Holocron that the Starkillers had parted with. A cube shaped device, white on the surface with a glowing light within. It invoked wonder over whatever secrets were residing within it. Teachings of the light, the dark, or the grey? Or perhaps some other knowledge entirely. Canus used the force to open it, a touch, a connection and then it began to open. Expanding into a diamond shape, the sides of it began to rotate and the light within grew brighter.

'Show me what my master wanted to get from you,' Canus thought.

Finally, it appeared, glowing in front of the Sith Warrior. Underneath his helmet he narrowed his eyes.

'A star map, what exactly are you after in the Lehon system Baras?'

Next Episode 28: Compromise

* * *

Hope everyone enjoyed the chapter, next time Daylen continues his arena battle.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age or Star Wars

* * *

Dragon Wars: The Force of Others

Episode 28: Compromise

Mandalorian Wars-Naboo

Markus looked at the carnage in front of him. The streets of a once peaceful planet had been decimated. He walked amongst the rubble, seeing the bodies half buried, the children burned.

"Markus," one of his friend, Keenan walked towards him.

His orange armour was coated in blood and dust, just as Markus's was. But his eyes still held the same conviction they had when they first entered the navy together.

"We were too late, we should have come here to provide support cycles ago," Markus said.

"It's not your fault Markus," Keenan said.

"No, it's those damn politicians on Coruscant, they should have recognised the threat these bastards represented long before..." Markus stopped himself though, knowing that he wouldn't be able to stop himself.

Markus and Keenan walked back to their squad, men and women just as tired as they were. A few of the Naboo guard were with them, and some of the locals, looking for their children. Upon seeing the kneeling and bound figures in armour, Markus grit his teeth together and walked to his commanding officer.

"Why are they here?" he demanded.

"Prisoners, intelligence wanted people to question on leads for the children taken by the Mandalorians," the man said.

"Foundlings," one of the Mandalorians said, a Neo-crusader in yellow armour.

"What?" Markus turned to the man.

"They will be trained as Mandalorians, accepted into clans and taught to continue the glorious battle for Mandalore," the man said.

"Unbind us and give us an honourable end," another of the Mandalorians said.

"Honour, HONOUR!" Markus yelled, running towards the man and throwing off his helmet.

He punched the man across the face, throwing off the two troopers grabbing him.

"This world was peaceful, and you ravaged it, there are children, CHILDREN BURIED AMONGST THE RUBBLE!" Markus screamed.

"Necessary sacrifices for our people's greatness," the Mandalorian retorted.

Markus punched the man again and again, coating his gloves in blood. Keenan himself pulled him away with a few of his other friends.

"Hey Markus, is this who we are now? IS THIS WHO WE ARE?!" Keenan yelled at him.

"Kids, kids, they've never taken prisoners, why should we?" Markus pulled his blaster out and shot one of the Mandalorians.

The other troopers looked at him in horror. Their commanding officer yelled at them to restrain him. They tackled Markus, dragging him to the floor and tearing his blaster from his grip. Keenan walked over to the dead Mandalorian, lifting off his helmet to reveal a child.

"A kid man, a kid," he said.

"Not a kid, a foundling," Markus huffed.

After that, Markus was deemed unfit for service and discharged. He returned to Corellia, intending on finding work to support his family.

"Teela, I'm home," he walked into the house of his wife, holding flowers and a toy for his son.

Instead he found a holo, his wife offered a copy of a separation settlement. She'd leave him the House and three quarters of what she had earned in her bank. It was a compromise to her, a bribe to him.

"She tried to give me money not to go and see my son," he told his employer, an Ishi Tib owner of a speeder garage.

Markus spent a majority of his days through the rest of the war and after fixing speeders. Corellia was famous for its ship yard, when Markus heard of Revan and Malak going mad (he didn't believe in this dark side, light side nonsense the Jedi spouted) he intended to get a job at the factory.

"I'd imagine that went well during the custody battle," the Ishi Tib said.

"Actually, we renegotiated, I get him every few days," Markus said.

One of those days came and Markus carried his ten year old son on his back. The boy looked up in wonder at the Hammer head class ships being built.

"Did you serve on one of those dad?" the boy asked.

"I did David, I did, met some of my best friends on ships like that," Markus said.

"Back when you were in the republic military right?" David asked.

"Yes, back then," Markus muttered.

"I want to be a soldier when I grow up dad, like you, I want to protect people, for the republic!"

Markus pulled David off of his back, gripping his shoulders tightly and looking him in the eyes.

"Don't you ever say shit like that, you understand me, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME!" he yelled.

The boy nodded his head, some tears in his eyes. Markus, looked at his shaking hands and hugged his son.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he whispered. "You listen to me son, you can do whatever you want, be whatever you want when you grow up, but don't ever become a soldier. Your mum may say otherwise, but the republic does not care about us, it cares about the image but not its people. When we joined up we wanted to protect people, but we ended up protecting rich people, protecting regions and not homes. It's difficult for me to explain son but, I lost a lot of friends, saw a lot of bad things and I don't want that life for you, and I especially don't want you to do it for an ideal understand?" he asked and David nodded his head.

They carried on their day. But the incident hadn't gone unseen by passersby.

"You can't keep him from me Teela, HE'S MY SON!" Markus screamed at the hologram of his wife.

"There's the problem Markus, you can't control your temper, I do not want our son inheriting that. This is going ahead Markus, I am sorry but you are leaving me no choice," she said.

Markus yelled as the woman's hologram faded. He began to drink that day, only getting up to answer the door. A man in a black version of the republic captain's uniform stood in front of him.

"Sergeant Grant, Jek Kardan, republic ops division," the man said.

He was bald and had a thick beard over his mouth.

"Not interested," Markus said.

"At least find out what I'm selling," Jek smirked.

"I still hear a few things, Havoc Squad, I've got no interest in dressing up in overpriced armour whilst the real soldiers die on the battlefield," Markus explained.

"This isn't Havoc squad, can I come inside?" Jek asked.

Markus huffed and let the man inside. Jek gave him a data pad, showing details of the Ebon Hawk, its journey. There were even pictures of Carth Onasi fighting alongside a Twi'lek girl and her wookie. Another picture caught his attention, a woman who was easy on the eyes, but a Jedi Sentinel. She was using a yellow, double bladed light sabre and there was a blurred shot of a man in a hood, using a purple light sabre.

"This can't be..."

"Revan, he wasn't killed by the Jedi strike team, the wise council deemed that he should be brought back into their fold. I don't know, they did something to him that didn't last. Intelligence confirmed that admiral Dodonna's fleet has been decimated, Revan has returned, and a schism has been created in the Sith ranks," Jek explained.

"What do you want from me?" Markus asked.

"An off the books hit, on the academy on Korriban, hit them before Revan can recruit them," Jek said.

Markus was eager, eager to do good again. Eager to do good his way, free of remorse or red tape. There was no red tape, they were given prototype armour for some commando program the republic was forming. Blaster submachine guns with sniper and grenade launcher configurations. Markus and other off the book troopers hit the Korriban academy, destroyed it with a bomb and decimated the ranks of students. But there was remorse that day. Markus removed his helmet and looked at a dead boy his son's age, he watched as his squad mates gunned down teenagers begging for their lives. He realised what he had become, far too late.

* * *

Present

'So much death, none of it mattered, the galaxy is still an indecent place, it still holds too much evil,' Markus thought, walking towards the latest victim he would have to leave in his wake.

The red eyed stranger was clearly not a killer. Being good at killing and enjoying it were two different things. There were soldiers trained, soldiers who had killed, but Markus would not call them killers. The red eyes he looked at were certainly eyes that had seen their fair share of hardships. He had seen the stranger easily cut through Kalla's champions. But he knew from the first moment they spoke, that the stranger was not a man who sought death.

'A good person, a man determined to not let this death and destruction change him,' Markus summarised, swinging his axe at the young man.

Daylen again shot fire through his feet, jumping over Markus's axe. He brought his foot down on Markus's shoulder, delivering a fiery kick. Markus again used his tech to 'force push' Daylen away. Then he threw his axe, sending it spinning towards Daylen. The mage used a fade step, taking himself away from Markus. He widened his eyes, the direction of Markus's axe had change. And his mana hadn't entirely recovered. Daylen raised his arm, blocking the axe with it. Metal and circuitry dropped to the floor and Markus's axe returned to his hand. What little protection Daylen's arm had was lost, and it was stuck at a raised position.

"Fuck," Daylen hissed.

'Could really use a Mana potion right now,' he thought, getting a little bit closer to Markus so that he wouldn't throw his axe again.

'He'll change, we all did,' Markus thought before he ran at Daylen again.

* * *

Savareen

The Corellian designed, YT-1210 series light freighter was the ship used by Klue and his students. Kaine and Tiko looked out at the sea from the cliff face, captivated by its beauty. Savareen was one of those rare desert and plain words were there was also an abundance of water. Moisture farms were in the deep areas of the desert, most of the shore lines had refineries for ores and fuels. At the Latheyan port there was an abundance of shops, passing by migrant caravans and scrappers. Jay-Den and Sayla passed a few Jawas on their way back from a droid merchant, the diminutive and hooded creatures trying to draw them into a deal. Though typically native to Tatooine, they had been known to migrate onto other worlds.

As his students began exploring, Klue walked to the local diner where Porla was waiting. Multiple dishes were laid out at his table, and his multitude of hands were helping themselves. Klue nodded to the Iakaru chef, Kesler was someone he knew and often did business with. He received a smile from Kesler's employee, a Togruta youth who often took the orders. Knowing that Klue was on Jedi business, they would keep away from his table for the next few minutes.

"Klue my friend, it is good to see you, won't you eat with me?" Porla asked.

"You know the answer," Klue smiled.

"I'll keep asking in case you get wise my friend," Porla laughed, scratching his cheek with one hand whilst putting a cake into his mouth with the other.

"So, what did you find?" Klue asked.

Porla licked some of the grease from his hands, using one of his cleaner ones to reach into his coat. He removed a holo-pad, placing it on the table. With a push of a button he displayed a distorted holographic video. It showed the inside of the ship, some kind of confrontation between a young woman and man. The man certainly looked worse for wear, his arm had been amputated and he probably had a few broken bones too.

_"Too much love in you...pathetic feelings...can't bring...strike down anyone," _the woman's voice echoed.

_"Want anyone to die...still wanted them...want you to live now," _the man said.

_"Take teachings of the Holocron...embrace dark," _the woman's words caught Klue's interest.

He watched, seeing fragments of the altercation, ship alarms. Then he saw the hull of the ship get blown apart and the girl get knocked out by the man. Static filled the screen, before the image settled on a blurred out image of someone curled up.

"Strangely, even though the ship is exposed to space, audio is still being picked up," Porla said.

"Help me," Klue whispered.

_"Help me," _Porla looked at the Jedi in shock.

"By the force, is it the force?" Porla asked.

"It is, often one can communicate through the force, leaving an echo in audio devices, even the mind," Klue said.

The time stamp began to fast forward, a day, two, four, a whole week passed and people in space suits finally came into the ship, drawn to the blurred out individual.

"An entire week exposed to the vacuum," Porla muttered.

"An entire week at one with the force," Klue amended.

"What? One with the force, isn't that usually when people are..."

"Dead, yes, but I have heard of some Jedi that have temporarily achieved oneness with the force. For this one to have spent an entire week, they must be an extraordinary individual," Klue explained, reaching into his pocket for credits.

"Keep your credits Klue, I owe you for your help with the Black Sun," Porla said.

"There's no debt for a Jedi," Klue chuckled.

"Then just take me up on a dinner offer the next time you're around, it'll be an excuse for us to help each other out," Porla explained and both men smiled.

Klue pocketed the holo pad and left, bidding goodbye to the diner patrons. He returned to the ship, seeing Sayla and Kaine sparring, him with a tech blade and her with her quarterstaff. Jay-Den was leant against the ship, whilst Tiko was working on a silver R2 series droid. Though clearly an R2 series, it had the designation RH-MQ, it included two mechanical arms on the sides of its head, its audio processor was slightly distorted when it beeped.

"Just fitting this new stun claw RH," Tiko said.

Kaine and Sayla stopped their sparring as Klue came towards them.

"So, do we have a mission?" Jay-Den asked.

"Patience my students, we have a clue, which means further investigation, so whose up for a trip to Coruscant?" Klue asked.

Whilst Sayla, Kaine and Jay looked confused, Tiko hesitantly raised his hand with RH, making Klue smile.

* * *

Korvis

The applause and awe of the crowd rose as Daylen punched Markus across the face. He was countered with a knee to his gut. Daylen threw his head back, barely dodging Markus's axe. His chin had taken a cut, and he nearly collapsed when Markus delivered a back hand to the side of his face. Adjusting his footing, Daylen dodged Markus's stomps. His boots were heavy and would no doubt crush his unprotected feet. Kicking up a spray of sand, Daylen attempted to blind Markus, only for the man to use his axe as a shield. Still utilising the distraction, Daylen broke off into a run towards his fallen sword.

'Attempting to fight me as a man I see,' Markus noted.

He raised his hand, and the hum echoed again. Daylen was suddenly pulled towards Markus, the man keeping his axe raised.

'These cybernetics mean I am beyond men,' Markus thought.

'Come on mana, just for one spell,' Daylen grit his teeth together.

Daylen moved his foot in Markus's direction, sending a bolt that conducted Markus's axe. The man dropped his weapon, leaving him vulnerable to a kick from Daylen's other foot. Daylen landed on his back, immediately thrusting his feet into Markus's chin. Before a second kick could make contact, Markus grabbed Daylen's foot, dragging him across the sand before throwing him across the arena. Within the viewing shelter, Maximus leant his arms against the bars and watched Daylen get back up.

'13, I see there is a limit to how often you can use your power, whilst it may seem otherwise, Markus too has a limited number of uses of his pseudo force abilities. Can you spot the pattern?' Maximus wondered.

Markus crouched, steam releasing from his knee armour before he jumped at Daylen. Waiting until the last possible second, Daylen jumped to the side, dodging a 'force' empowered punch. Markus followed up with a haymaker, catching the side of Daylen's head and throwing him to the floor. He raised his foot, ready to bring it down on Daylen's head. Daylen rolled again at the last second, dodging the strike. He threw the sand towards Markus's eyes, Markus though used the force-tech, blowing Daylen back. Markus's eyes widened, mirroring Maximus, both men seeing that Daylen had planned it. He was being thrown towards his sword.

'Clever, but not good enough, there's no way you could lift that blade with one hand,' Markus thought, running towards his axe.

He kept one eye on Daylen, puzzled when the young man slammed his cybernetic arm against the flat of his sword. Again and again he struck the sword, his strikes getting quicker and more hysterical as Markus reached his sword.

'He didn't see the pattern, he didn't even try to spot the gap in time between Markus's use of his false powers. What he did do was use Markus to get him back to his sword, and those hits...to the crowd, it may seem as if he's lost his mind, but when a bone is dislodged, you have to set it back, that's what you're doing isn't it 13?' Maximus smirked when Daylen slammed his arm against the blade a final time.

Bits of metal and armour dropped to the ground, the wires on Daylen's arm had been further exposed, but he moved it again. Grabbing the handle of the oversized blade, Daylen lifted it out of the sand just as Markus boosted towards him. He swung his sword just as Markus swung his axe. Both weapons slammed together and knocked the wielders off balance. Markus stumbled to the side and Daylen was thrown back. Sticking the blade into the ground, Daylen swung off of the hilt and placed his feet on the ground. He lifted the sword onto his back, then held it with both hands in front of him. Markus recovered and went for Daylen again, their blades clashing, once, twice, and then a third time that made their weapons tip over their heads.

'Measuring your opponent, watching him, adapting to his techniques, I see 13, despite your loss of stamina, despite your wounds, you're improving as the fight gets more intense,' Maximus stepped away from the bars and crossed his arms over his chest.

His eyes drifted to the podium where Krayt stood, watching the battle just as intensively as he did. The dark Jedi had the slither of a smirk across his face. Daylen and Markus slammed their blades together again and again, Markus attempting to push again with his tech. But Daylen crouched, placed his right hand on the flat of his sword and weathered out the wave. Then he rushed forward, using the sword as a shield against Markus's axe, following through and pushing Markus back. When Markus's axe imbedded itself on Daylen's sword, Daylen pulled his sword back and kicked sand into Markus's eyes. Then he swung his sword, hitting Markus across the head with the flat of the huge blade.

* * *

Then-Tatooine

Markus found his bounty a few miles from Mos Eisley. He dragged him across the Dune sea and to Mos Aither, where the Bounty had been set. The thief had apparently stole the components of a rare HK-series droid that Aither's unofficial mayor, Gul Udonna was trying to collect. A Shi'Do shape shifter, Gul often appeared in various male forms. Always though he would be shirtless and sport elaborate tattoos across his chest and back. On that day he appeared to Markus as a handsome human man, a gold chain hanging off of his neck. Gul clapped his fingers together, his guards taking the Twi'lek thief by his head tails.

"Griff old friend, it's bad enough you owe me money, but to steal from me...what happened to it?" Gul asked the blue skinned Twi'lek.

"I don't have it, I sold it I swear," the Twi'lek man said, panicking, tears in his eyes when Gul stroked his head.

"That's disappointing, and more money you've cost me, I actually had a buyer lined up," Gul shook his head and walked to a tool bench.

There was a pair of pliers on it, the ends big enough to go through bone. He turned to Griff with a smirk and waved them as he approached.

"No, please Gul, please, I can pay the debt back I can," Griff said.

"Oh Griff, how many people have you screwed over? Disappointed? Let down? All right, how about this, I'll cut the debt by half if you answer one question," Gul grinned at the look of relief on Griff's face.

He had his men force Griff to his knees. Markus watched and waited, he knew that Gul wasn't someone you interrupted. A bounty hunter once made the mistake of trying to rush the crime lord. Gul had the Echani's fingers pulled off before shooting him in the head. Gul crouched in front of Griff, holding the pliers at the ready.

"One question, is it true...and do try to be honest for once in your life. Did you betray your sister over Tarisian Ale?" Gul asked.

Griff's expression was horrified, he seemed to mull it over in his head. When tears came to his eyes he sniffed and slowly nodded his head.

"I...I did I...I promised her and her friend I would make them partners in a Tarisian Ale trade...I asked for investments, and...yeah, I asked after I'd messed up the brew, and I booked tickets off world as soon as they left," Griff explained.

He was crying, limp in the arms of Gul's guards. Gul clicked his fingers and nodded, his smile fading.

"I'm sorry, I know you're sister is a difficult subject, I suppose even a bad brother can care about their sister. So tell me Griff, if you screwed over your own sister, why would I trust you again? Fool me once, shame on me, I didn't fully explore your background when I gave you a loan, my mistake. But you made a mistake too Griff when you failed to pay back, shame on you, you made another mistake when you stole from me and ran. You know where this is going right? Fool me once, shame on me, fool me twice shame on you, try and fool me again and..." he suddenly grabbed one of Griff's head tails.

"FUCKING FOOL ME THRICE AND I'LL FUCKING RIP YOUR HEAD TAIL OFF!" the man's face became grotesque, his teeth like razors and eyes like a beast.

Griff screamed, writhing in agony, and Markus kept his eyes open through it all. He saw the pliers crunch through the cartilage in Griff's head tentacles, saw the blood leak through. And he saw Gul viciously rip the tentacle off of Griff's head.

"Somewhere in that head of yours Griff Vao, you know this is what you deserve," Gul lifted the head tail up.

His men forced Griff to watch as their employer ate his head tail. He gulped it down, licking his fingers as if he had eaten something from a buffet.

"Let me make this clear, you're going to work your arse off to pay me back, or I'll take things as payment, understand?" Gul asked and Griff nodded his head.

"Good, I'm glad, now, sending you to Korvis would be a waste because, you can't fight for shit, how about you just become my slave then? Yeah that's agreeable," Gul patted Griff's head and turned to Markus.

These were the type of men Markus worked with. He stopped going into government sponsored bounties, as the Republic was cracking down on the use of bounty hunters. They had forced him to branch out into the Outer Rim. He worked with gangsters, slavers, drug dealers and murderers. That was his life, and watching Gul ruthlessly and cruelly removed a piece of Griff and eat it in front of him, didn't bother him in the least.

Another bounty took him to Korvis, where he recovered an escaped slave. Then he watched the slave fight in the arena against a champion of it, a monster in black armour who ended up snapping the man's neck. Markus hadn't been bothered then, but then he got into a Pazaak game with Raknar Tib. To pay the debt, Markus immediately chose Korvis before Raknar could offer any alternative. Time passed and Markus gained Raknar considerable credits, and buyers for his cybernetics. He tested a patent and earned Raknar more fame for his inventions. Opponent after opponent fell to him, and there came a point when Markus didn't even live amongst the other slaves.

"Markus, come and sit with me," Raknar said.

He was sitting in his garden, an array of off world plants around him. The table they sat at was off a fine quality, a bottle of ale and two glasses was between them. Markus drank, necking one shot after another.

"To business booming," Raknar grinned and Markus tapped his glass with his.

"To your health master," Markus said.

"Come now Markus, you're practically a partner, your credits surpassed what you would have gotten from a military pension, heck there are some veteran bounty hunters that would envy what you have. The debt has been paid, you're not a slave anymore," Raknar explained.

"By the arena's standards I still am," Markus said.

"Yes, but that can change, one word from me and it can...Markus, you can walk away, I won't hold it against you," Raknar said.

"Will you hold it against me if I be honest with you, about why I chose the arena to pay you back?" Markus asked.

"I do admit I have always been curious, it struck me as odd that of all the ways you could have repaid the debt you chose the one that put you in most danger."

Markus tilted the contents of another glass down his throat.

"It was because of the danger that I chose it, I know what I am Raknar, once I got up in the morning with the intention of standing for something. Once I served the republic and believed in democracy and freedom, and the goodness and lives of others. I believed vicious things needed to be done to protect them, and I was willing to throw myself into the abyss, to be a monster to fight monsters," Markus explained.

"But then you found out there were no monsters," Raknar said.

"No, I found out there were monsters, I had become one. Only I wasn't fighting monsters anymore, and the worst part of it was that it didn't bother me. I joined the arena because I sought out that one opponent that could deliver the blow I deserved!"

Raknar nodded his head. He didn't scoff or smirk, his expression was solemn and understanding. Grabbing the bottle, he poured another round.

"To what we deserve," he said.

* * *

Now

Markus could hear the crowd chanting.

'Kill!'

'Kill!'

'Kill!'

He clutched his head, bleeding from blunt force trauma. Standing up with a growl he glared at the man who had held back. Daylen looked up at the crowd in disgust and with utter fury when he looked to the main podium. Kalla was chanting kill, as were other VIPs.

"Bastards," he seethed, seeing Krayt and his acolytes looking at the proceedings expectantly.

"BOY!" Markus yelled, catching Daylen's attention.

The man flicked the blood off of his fingers, vision blurring, his stance uneasy. But in time, he stood like Daylen did in defiance.

"This only ends one way, you may deny it, but this is reality...FINISH IT!" Markus yelled.

He grabbed his axe and ran at Daylen. With a yell he swung it at Daylen, who blocked the strike with his sword. Again Markus swung the axe around, narrowly missing Daylen's chin. He threw a punch for Daylen, but Daylen raised his sword and Markus broke his hand on the thick blade. Daylen slammed his head into Markus's and shoulder barged him.

"Do it, kill me," Markus snarled.

They locked their blades together, Daylen leant against his sword and tried to push Markus back.

"I'll kill you, the next opponent will kill you, if you show mercy, YOU WILL DIE!" Markus screamed.

Daylen narrowed his eyes, then, in a burst of magic he passed through Markus. A fade step, combined with electrical channelling. He reappeared behind Markus, the man's implants and harness began to spark and shut down. Markus fell to his knees and felt his limbs become heavier.

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

Daylen walked around Markus, resting the sword on his back. He glared up at Krayt and the other watchers.

"Kill me," Markus seethed.

"Why are you so determined to die?" Daylen asked.

"Because I deserve to die, there are evil men in this world who deserve such. But more importantly, it is the way of things, if you show mercy you will be made to suffer boy," Markus explained.

"I've already suffered, there's nothing they can do to me."

"There's always something they can do to you, don't think you'll be able to hold onto your principles in this place," Markus said.

"He's right Daylen," Cousland said, appearing on Daylen's right.

"He's unarmed, killing him would be murder," said Greagoir, whom appeared on the left.

"Survival," Daveth corrected.

"Daylen, is this who you are now?" Petra asked.

"Remember what I said, in trying to save everyone, you won't be able to save anyone," Kaius whispered in his ear.

Daylen looked down at Markus, the man had collapsed to his hands and knees and looked up at him with eyes stung red from tears.

"You will lose if you try to follow your ideals, do it, save yourself, do it," Markus repeated, his face filling with rage.

"DO IT!" his roar echoed.

Daylen yelled, swinging his sword down on top of Markus's shoulder, tearing through his chest. He stepped back and fell to his knees, yelling at the top of his lungs. Punching the ground, he was bombarded by applause and nearly deafened by the cheers. Daylen raised his head up and looked towards where Krayt and his followers were. The man in the mask had a smirk on his head. Taking hold of the sword, Daylen ripped the sword out of Markus's chest and threw it with all his strength. He let the anger take over, he let it guide the blade straight towards Krayt. It moved astonishingly fast, faster than a blaster bolt. Suddenly, Krayt ignited a pair of red light sabres, cutting the blade apart. The two sides of the sword imbedded themselves in the walls either side of Krayt. As Krayt deactivated his sabres, Talon and Nihl moved to draw theirs. One look from their master was enough to make them stop.

Maximus looked towards Daylen, seeing the defiance in his step, the determination in his eyes. As well as the way that look was targeted at the Dark Jedi.

'That 13 was not simply an emotional response, the way you stand, that look in your eyes. It's just like Mandalore the Ultimate, when he commenced the campaign against the republic. 13, you're declaring war on the Dark Jedi,' Maximus thought.

An approving smile crossed the Mandalorian's face. He looked forward to seeing what the red eyed stranger would do next.

Next Episode 29: Discovery

* * *

Hope everyone enjoyed the chapter, the droid RH-MQ was based on the original design for R2-D2. Markus was intended to be that one time rival character, the character you hope the main character will defeat but face the sudden surprise of their backstory. And even though he is a one time rival, his death will affect Daylen and have some consequences in the future.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age or Star Wars

* * *

Dragon Wars: The Force of others

Episode 29: Discovery

Jader

Loghain moved through the streets, keeping his hood over his head. He had left Anora to organise the army and Cauthrien to organise the forces to wait for Leliana and Alistair. That wasn't to say Loghain planned to meet their unlikely ally alone. Cullen and his squad were in hiding, amongst the people on the streets. Loghain was no fool, and he suspected Gaspard wasn't either. Honour only got warriors so far, and Loghain believed that Orlais was a nest of vipers. For Gaspard to be considered honourable and survive the game, he must have been as smart as Loghain. Years as a farm hand, and hunter after that had taught Loghain observational skills. He could spot former Chevaliers even if they did act like drunks. The Butcher in Jader was anti-imperial, but often did services for the imps. If a high ranking official wanted a rival to disappear, the Butcher would provide the service of making the body disappear. He often gave meat to the desperate for free, and Loghain suspected where it came from. Desperate times often led to despicable things, and Loghain knew what it was like to be so hungry you would eat anything.

The Butcher provided a back yard where no imperials would over hear them. Pigs squealed and the air smelt like shit, so no security captain would be caught dead there. Rolling up his sleeve, Loghain checked his chrono-meter and checked the other entrances. Hooded figures appeared, so as Loghain suspected Gaspard wasn't a fool. One walked into the yard, holding a bottle of whiskey and swaying. The man let out a disgusting belch and wiped alcohol off of his beard. Loghain put a hand to the dagger at his waist, watching the drunkard carefully. After two steps, the drunkard stumbled into the pig pen, Loghain followed. Both removed their hoods and Loghain saw for the first time Gaspard De Chalons, heir of Orlais, respected Chevalier and now leader of the Orlesian resistance.

"Mac Tir," Gaspard said, voice refined with an edge Loghain recognised from high born fighters.

"De Chalons," Loghain didn't bother with the proper pronunciation or accent.

If Gaspard took offence, he didn't show it. Setting the bottle down, he drew the Orlesian styled short sword from his hip and set that down too. Loghain took out his dagger and knuckle duster.

"I've come far to meet you," Gaspard said.

"The journey has been long for me," Loghain said.

"My sympathies for Ferelden, to lose a country..."

"My country was taken, twice, but my people still live," Loghain said, not caring whether he sounded too harsh.

"Ferelden was the victim of the Mad Emperor's greed, his desire to keep hold of the old empire. When Kirkwall gained its independence in 8:5, many in the Orlesian court counted it as the end of the Orlesian empire as they knew it. Nevarra followed, and then Ferelden and the arrival of the empire beyond the stars. A select few, my parents among them saw that for all we had fought and cheated for, our 'grand empire' was nothing in comparison to what else was out there," Gaspard explained.

Loghain raised his eyebrows in surprise, not expecting Gaspard to consider his home country so harshly.

"What of Empress Celene?" he asked.

"Governess, Prime Minister Celene, whatever they regard her as, is nothing more than a political tool for the empire. She believes that by serving as a mouth piece, she can slowly manipulate her way into a position of true authority. To her credit, she has genuine control over some of the Orlesian recruited imperial soldiers, but she is beginning to lose power, both from the common folk, the elves and especially the nobility!"

"Surely not because of the Dales," Loghain said.

"There is much prejudice amongst the Orlesian nobility, and even the city alienages. It was recently revealed that Celene's bodyguard Briala is also her lover. Such a thing makes no difference to the imperial occupiers, but old prejudices die hard in the streets and courts of Orlais," Gaspard stated.

Loghain shook his head, he was no saint when it came to elves. He was ignorant of aspects of their history, and understood from a certain point of view that made him prejudice to some people. In another life, he probably would have made their lives harder in order to make the lives of others in Ferelden better. But it would never have been motivated by some petty discrimination.

"So Orlesian nobility and the elves are turning to a better candidate for Orlais," Loghain muttered.

"Oh the elves join me because they hope I can lead them to revenge, the nobility won't do a thing until I have the upper hand over Celene. She's hosting a gala at Halamshiral, in celebration of the graduating legion of Orlesian imperial recruits," Gaspard explained.

"Storm troopers?"

"No, regular Sith troopers, they'll be deployed to off world warzones. The bulk of the garrison in Orlais will be at this event, which is where a small team will infiltrate and kidnap Celene and Moff Wessel," Gaspard said.

"What?" Loghain narrowed his eyes at Gaspard.

"When you sent me your plan to attack Halamshiral, I knew that it would serve as a good example to the people of our ability to work together. But with Halamshiral taken, the greater target would have its security increased."

"Verchiel, your old posting," Loghain shook his head, picking up his weapons and turning.

"I'm not talking about taking Verchiel, I'm talking about the fighter yard where Planascene forest used to be," Gaspard said.

Loghain stopped, turning to Gaspard with his interest half regained.

"Garrison commanders of Halamshiral believe we will attack there, the garrison commanders at Verchiel believe the same. However I sent additional leaks that we would attack Val Royeaux," Gaspard explained.

"Idiotic considering our numbers and equipment, Denerim was our pride, but not the same size as your capital," Loghain said.

"To attack Val Royeaux without uniting all of Orlais, as you united all of Ferelden is suicidal. Abducting VIP's from the event in Halamshiral will give us leeway. As our covert team takes hostages from Halamshiral, you and I will join with Knight-Commander Meredith of Kirkwall, and the Dalish clans of Lavellan and Ghilain!"

Loghain widened his eyes slightly, then stroked his chin as he sat down.

"Thedas will see not just major leaders of Ferelden and Orlais, but a commanding figure of Kirkwall and the two largest Dalish clans in the region. By taking the fighter yard, we will have secured fuel, materials and weapons to kick start bigger operations. Moving through the imperial Highway, to Val Chevin and then Val Royeaux, taking the Orlesian capital and capturing Divine Victoria and the Dark lord of the Sith stationed there," he explained.

"Darth Asher, the Divine and a Sith lord in one fell swoop. We will have crippled the Sith version of the Chantry and defeated one of their lords," Gaspard said.

"And shown Thedas an army not of Ferelden, but of all of Thedas. I will begin calling forth warriors of all the Ferelden factions," Loghain said and Gaspard nodded his head.

"We must unite not just Orlais, but all of the people whom call Thedas their home. Just as you had united all of Ferelden!"

"You are wrong, that was not me, but Daylen Amell!"

"I would have liked to have met this mage, he and the sacrifice his fellow mages made to stop that Sith weapon is one I will never forget," Gaspard said.

Loghain hesitantly nodded his head in agreement. He had never met a tactician and fighter like Daylen Amell. Wherever he was, he served the rebellion better as a noble sacrifice than a hero waiting to return.

* * *

Deep Roads

Wherever Daylen was, Leliana hoped he was seeing wonders as grand as what she looked upon now. Though time had affected the vault, it was still as impressive as the first one she saw. The vault itself was a hundred yard hallway filled with containers. Leliana looked at the ceiling, seeing the molten orange lights running across it.

"It drew on the power of the planet itself, to keep itself active," she gasped.

Oghren stepped up to one of the containers and tapped it.

"Take a look at this," he gestured to the shining blue crystals inside of it.

"It appears to be lyrium," Sten said.

Oghren touched the container again, withdrawing when a set of holographic letters appeared on it.

"EZ, maybe it isn't lyrium," he said.

Zevran walked around one of the containers, putting his hand in one. There was a clicking sound, and then a hiss. Suddenly, Zevran withdrew his hand with a yell.

"What is it?" Leliana asked.

"Something in there stung me, it..." Zevran paused when he moved his hands.

Two orange gauntlets covered his arms, much like the gauntlet over Leliana's. Blades extended from the arms, followed by plates of holographic armour over Zevran's chest and parts of his legs.

"Wow," he muttered.

Sten sheathed his sword, stepping up to one of the containers. He removed a disc shaped device from it. It beeped and he was about to put it back in the box, when he heard something behind him. Throwing the disc, he drew his sword and looked upon...a floating ball. Its form continually rotated as it floated off of the floor. The disc suddenly shifted as well, expanding and floating off of the ground. A barrel extended from the front of the disc and suddenly fired green beams at the floating ball. The ball fired back with pulses of electricity, both drones attacked one another until they were destroyed. But the disc suddenly flew back to Sten, the Qunari catching it cautiously.

"Maybe there's a manual we could use before we start opening more boxes," Zevran said.

"I've found something," Leliana called to her companions.

She was standing in the middle of the room, at a type of console. Running her hand over the console, holographic screens appeared around her.

"You wanted instructions, here they are gentlemen, information translated to multiple languages. Omni-Tech, blade, armour, shield, knuckle. Tech; flamethrower, cryo-dust, drones, overload, turrets, barricade. Not quite the weapons we were looking for, but an incredible find, this could help us surpass the Sith troopers," Leliana explained.

"I think I'm getting the hang of this," Zevran said, deactivating the armour and the gauntlet. "It's all in the fingers I think!"

"Materials and technology, guess we need to thank them," Oghren muttered.

"I'll send a prayer later, we should get back to the surface and organise an expedition to bring these containers back," Leliana said.

She downloaded the inventory, schematics and relevant codexes, even taking some of the corrupt files to hopefully repair later. Leaving the vault doors to close behind them, the group made their way back to the entrance. Upon coming out of the vault however, they quickly drew their weapons out. Standing before them, some snarling and battle ready, were pale, rough skinned creatures dressed in cruel armour. With the size and bulk of human men were Hurlocks, the majority of the group. Diminutive, but bulky and fierce were the Genlocks. Near feral and with rat like faces were the Shriek's. And towering above them were three gigantic, horned Ogres.

"Darkspawn," Oghren snarled, identifying the race itself.

"Hold!"

Even Sten widened his eyes, as three Darkspawn stepped forward. One wore armour over his loin cloth, a purple scarf around his neck, and a helmet covered his face with the front of it shaped into a pair of outward horns. The second carried two crude blades like butcher cleavers, ropes rang over his shoulders, keeping his chest plate together, he also covered his face with a red and black helm. The last of them, and the apparent leader carried a shield and mace, both of which he laid out on the floor. His armour seemed to be a better quality than the other Darkspawn, consisting of scale mail and grey and gold plates. A purple cloth was wrapped around his neck, and his fierce pale face had blood like paint over his eyes.

"Did one of those Hurlocks just talk?" Zevran asked.

"You are thinking you know of our kind elf? It is understandable. But that will soon be changed," the Hurlock with the horned helmet said.

"We have not come to fight," the leader said.

"We are here to trade," said the second.

"So the rumours are true," Leliana muttered. "I thought it was a fairy tale, Darkspawn that talk!"

"We have been awakened, freed of the song, individuals but still part of the group. We speak for them, I am the Withered!"

"The Herald!"

"And I am the Architect's Messenger," the leader stepped closer to the group.

"You attacked the Imperial caravans here didn't you?" Leliana asked.

"Yes, they dig, dig deep into our homes, burn the children and the mothers," the Messenger said.

"Mothers who were abducted and changed by you," Oghren glared.

"We know what we are, and how we are born...we do not have pride, but we do wish to live," the Herald said.

"The Sith," the Messenger snarled. "Dig deep, seeking lost secrets," he gestured to the vault. "And more, they dig quicker than we can, find the lost dragons."

"Before you can corrupt them, it seems like they're doing us a favour," Leliana said.

"Blights not our desire, was not the desire before...lost dragons, wanted blights before. But now, Sith chain lost dragons, take them above clouds!"

"Off world, we know they're taking them, but we don't know why," Zevran said.

"We fight empire, we join rebellion," the Messenger said.

"So that you can just take over Thedas once the Sith are gone?" Leliana demanded.

"No different, from what humans will do to each other, when Sith gone," the Herald said.

Leliana was about to rebuke, but she couldn't. She knew the greed of people, the corruption of courts and nobility, and even the Chantry itself.

"Architect does not seek rule, but freedom, from the Sith and for us," the Withered said.

"So what, we live in harmony, man and darkspawn?" Oghren scoffed.

"We go back to the nature of our world, the balance of it," the Messenger said.

Leliana lowered her pistol and stepped cautiously towards the Messenger. Cautious, but also confident that she could draw her dagger before he could attack.

"What are you here to propose?" she asked.

"We know these caves, this world beneath yours, better than those whom know the world above you," he said.

"We have an alliance with dwarves already," Leliana said.

"But we know what dwarves do not, older secrets, secrets you seek," The Messenger gestured to the vault. "We know where another is, we will show you, if you share key, if you share what is inside. We will help you carry half of what is inside to the surface if you let us keep other half," the Messenger explained.

Leliana took a few steps back to her companions, eager for their thoughts.

"We don't know what could happen to the vault and its contents if we go to prepare an expedition, with Loghain planning his campaigns he probably won't be able to spare the man power," Zevran explained.

"Nothing should be wasted, but the darkspawn are dangers greater than Serabas, there must always be caution and conditions with them," Sten added.

"I can't believe we're actually considering allying with these freaks...I need a drink!" Oghren huffed.

"Daylen made allies out of the werewolves, out of dragon cultists, we have an alliance with people in Tevinter and Loghain's willing to put aside his pride to ally with De Chalons," Leliana explained.

"Fereldans allying with Orlesians is very different from allying with the monsters you're told nightmarish stories about as children," Zevran said.

"I'm not going to fight beside them, and I may be a drunk but I still know some of the logistics of war. Loghain won't be able to spare his men, but I don't need to be a genius to know this could back fire on us," Oghren explained.

"I know, the rebel alliance, saviours of Thedas, allying with monsters that have tried to destroy it four times," Leliana dragged her hands through her hair and sighed.

"We need to take the contents of the vault to the surface, Loghain is not here, nor is Ashkari, a decision must be made," Sten said.

Leliana looked up at the vault, one of the last hope for their people. Then at the Darkspawn, once one of its greatest threats and from a certain viewpoint, still its greatest threat. Yet still, they offered hope during a time of darkness and Leliana knew to look in the most unexpected places for hope.

* * *

Storm Coast

Thieves and murderers, Alistair didn't expect to call these people allies. Nor did he expect them to look to him for leadership. When they heard he and Irving were planning to strike against the Empire on dragon island, they offered their assistance instantly. They gathered at their camp, around a table with a map of the Stormcoast on it. Alistair held the knife in his hand, giving the directions on the map.

"An aerial attack will be futile, the Vinsomer still circles the island often, the turrets are always active in the event it tries to take back its home. Once we've eliminated the turrets, the Vinsomer will return. But first we have to clear the island, an attack by sea is risky but still our best chance, what do we have to get across the sea?" Alistair asked.

"Boats with speeder engines on them, we put the engines underneath the water and we go faster than we ever have before," one of the blades said.

"Impressive, they have guns on the beach that will strike at us though," Alistair said.

"Not if I use a barrier, I could protect the boat until it lands on the beach," Irving said.

"Even if we land on the beach, they still have repeated blaster rifles, they'll cut us all apart," said another of the blades.

"If you have lyrium dust and poultices, start crafting, because I have an idea," Irving smirked.

They packed weapons, explosives, both stolen and homemade with dust, alcohol and shrapnel. As Irving walked, he checked over the bags of lyrium dust that some of the blades carried. Alistair walked between two blades, one carrying a sniper rifle and another a rocket launcher. The Mabari walked at the head of the blades's hounds, the unofficial Alpha to their pack.

"What are you planning Irving?" Alistair asked.

"How much did you see of the ground battle from the back of a dragon Alistair?" Irving asked back.

"I remember Daylen led a group of the mages outside of Denerim, he performed some spell using Knight-Enchanter techniques," Alistair said and Irving shook his head, humoured.

"He took the fundamental techniques of the Arcane Warrior specialisation, drawing magic inwards, and instead of unleashing that magic as a mana blade, or increasing his physical strength, he created a massive projection," Irving explained.

"I remember now, but wasn't he drawing on lyrium he painted onto his skin as well as the collective mana of a select group of mages?" Alistair asked.

"My Mana pool is greater than Daylen's, it comes with my age of course," Irving said.

"It was a big risk for him to take, an original spell that had no guarantee of working and he was drained after it," Alistair said.

"Yes, in fact I'd go as far as to say it nearly killed him. I'm not as great as an expert as Wynn, but using your magic in such a fashion when you don't have the necessary mana pool can damage the inside of your body in the long term. But my job will simply be to protect the boat as it lands, at that point, you'll be able to neutralise the imperial blasters!"

"With the force," Alistair muttered.

"Yes Alistair, trust in it, you used it during the battle for Ferelden, use it for this battle and every battle beyond it," Irving explained.

"But are you sure you'll be able to create something that matches what Daylen made?" Alistair asked.

"I will, have faith Alistair, in both yourself and those who follow you."

Irving smiled at Alistair as he walked away. The blades prepared their boats, Irving and Alistair stood at the front of theirs and looked behind them. These men and women depended on their success and in order to succeed, they had to discover the strengths they often tried to hide. Irving because he was a mage, hiding power was his duty. And Alistair because he doubted himself, if there was another leader, he would turn to them. But there was no other leader, and they couldn't hide their power.

* * *

Planet 31

The Fury floated over the blue and grey planet. A world of bogs, swamps and energy storms, it was yet another potential resource for the empire. Canus stood at the map projector, bringing up some of the first projected sites that the empire occupied. The exploratory corps had formed four bases across the planet. Two had been decimated, one was protecting itself from the natives and the fourth maintained a type of truce with the natives. The fourth was where he would go, as his master dictated, at least for now.

"What do we know about this planet?" Vette asked, looking over her blaster pistols.

"Imperial intelligence confirms that there are two single gendered species aliens on the planet, one is extremely technologically advanced, whilst the other is very aggressive, feral even," Malavai explained.

"Looking forward to the fight then," Pierce removed his chain gun from the rack, attaching it to a clamp on his armour.

Landing the ship in the imperial dock, Canus walked to the hatch. Pierce put his helmet on, whilst Canus used the force to move breather masks to Vette and Quinn.

**"This planet has been known to produce natural gasses, troops have occasionally suffered for their ignorance,"** Canus said.

"What do these gasses do?" Vette asked.

"Once they make contact with the fluid in a person's blood stream, they begin to crystallise and expand," Malavai said.

"To bloody results I'm guessing," Vette cringed.

Canus walked down the hatch, surprising the gathered officers and troops with his salute.

"Lord Canus, this is an unexpected pleasure," the base commander said.

**"I am no lord, and you can dispense with the pleasantries, you will provide a status report to Agent Quinn here, Lieutenant Pierce will verify the readiness of your troops. Consider them in charge until I return," **Canus explained.

"Return?" the commander looked at him in confusion.

**"I want a speeder bike prepared, put two day's worth of rations in there," **he commanded.

"Y-yes sir," the commander bowed his head before rushing to see everything done.

**"Vette, you'll go with me," **Canus said and the Twi'lek girl nodded her head.

Once the speeder bike was ready, Canus climbed onto it with Vette behind him. She held the support handles at the back of it whilst he punched down on the throttle. The bike levitated off of the ground as the Sith troops opened the base's gate. With a twist of the bike's handles, Canus and Vette darted off. They flew across the planet's landscape, a bog of swamps with blue crystals jutting out of them. Canus flew around a few of these formations, then dived down a cliff face, at the last moment, Canus pulled up, putting more thrust into the bike so that it could hover to the ground. He stopped briefly, looking into the distance, where a natural fortress had formed. A great tree upon a hilltop, surrounded by rocks and fissures.

"Beautiful," he heard Vette mutter behind him.

He had to agree with her, particles of blue energy emanated from the branches of the tree, making them look like fireflies or shooting stars. Canus activated the engine again and continue the rest of the way. Riding to the base of the hill, he parked the bike and walked with Vette up the hill. There was the snapping of twigs around them, the rustle of leaves and general disturbing of the ground. Vette's hands unconsciously drifted to her pistols. She looked at her surroundings more than the Sith lord, at least that's what she believed. In truth, Canus knew they were surrounded, he knew that guns and other astonishing weapons were trailing on them. Canus drew his sword from his back and stabbed it into the ground.

**"Take your pistols out and drop them to the floor,"** Canus commanded.

"What?"

**"If you want to avoid a fight do it," **Canus said.

Vette quickly drew both her pistols, placing them on the ground as they continued walking up the hill. They came to the base of the tree, where a doorway had been formed.

"I find it hard to believe they have an open door policy," Vette said.

**"They must not perceive us as a threat," **Canus said.

He slowly and cautiously raised his hands, an action Vette repeated.

"We're not going to have to kneel are we?" she asked.

**"Well, do we?" **Canus asked, finally speaking to the people around them.

They climbed the trees, traversed the branches, hid behind the rocks. Blue energy flowed around four as they jumped towards Canus and Vette. The blue energy lifted them off of the ground and they gracefully landed in front of the two intruders. They were female figures, though varying weights and muscle tone, each one though clearly a fighter from the armour they wore. Some had cloaks on their backs, others had studded guards on their shoulders, or clear blue visors exposing human like eyes. All of them however wore various tones of blue armour over black hard suits, or put over bare blue skin. The helmets had designs at the back of them resembling some form of head tails, though not like the Twi'lek kind. There was a mild shake and more fighters walked around the roots.

They were male figures, unlike the earlier ones, and didn't seem to utilise the blue energy. Massive, hulking like figures covered completely in armour. The packs on their backs seemed to be modified rocket boosters perhaps to account for their immense size. They were bigger than Wookies, probably half the size of Rancors and fittingly, they carried big guns. Though the guns themselves were primitive compared to blasters, but Canus didn't doubt their fire power alone made up for that.

The flying warriors aimed their own purple and white blasters, some opening their palms of their hands, the blue energy crackling between their finger tips. Canus noticed a few had bladed weapons too.

**"We mean you no harm, we just wish to talk," **Canus said.

"Talk you wish hmm!"

Canus shifted his feet, hearing the laughter coming from the 'ceiling' of the tree. He watched the trees, seeing the green and blue blur darting across the branches. Then he saw the red light sabre ignite. He didn't move his head, didn't resist, feeling a clawed foot on his shoulder. It had a surprisingly strong grip considering the size of the person it belonged to. Half the size of a dwarf, small and light enough to grab and throw off. But the red light sabre held to his throat gave him pause.

"Well, what is it you wish to talk about?" the alien asked him.

He had pointed ears, green skin and wore a set of blue robes. Jumping off of Canus's shoulder, he deactivated his small light sabre, hanging it off of his belt and walking between each of the alien warriors. Though they were giants compared to him, Canus had no doubt this small alien creature was the most powerful person in the tree. He had seen pictures of the species, but no one seemed to have a name for them, save for the fact they tended to be strong in the force and some often spoke a form of broken basic.

**"I seek knowledge, I seek answers, I seek discovery...I seek lost secrets and secrets that were not even known,"** Canus said.

The small alien turned towards Canus, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Where did you learn such words?" he asked.

**"From my master, he whom also guides my path to vengeance," **Canus said.

"And who is your master?"

**"He's never given a name, but he is older than the emperor, older than he whom leads the First order. And he knows far more about the universe than any who exist, save perhaps for the Whills," **Canus explained.

"Yes, met this one I have," the alien smirked.

**"He was the one whom convinced you to leave Darth Revan," **Canus said and the alien nodded his head.

"Leave Revan's order before it fails, convince others he did too," the little alien jumped onto the shoulder of one of the bulky aliens.

**"You are Veda bearer of the four Holocrons, I already have the first from Starkiller," **Canus said.

Veda reached into his robe, a chuckle escaping his mouth as he removed a white pyramid from it.

"Knowledge for knowledge, hmmm?" he laughed again.

**"I can give you information on troop movements..."**

"No!" the humour left Veda's voice as he narrowed his eyes. "When it is time to fight, we will be ready, instead you will give me much more important information, tell me, even if your master has denied you speak of this. It does not need to be great detail, simply a yes or no question. Answer me this, is the gate going to open?" Veda asked.

Vette looked at Canus in confusion, noticing how he lowered his head and hesitated. Squeezing his hand into a fist, he looked towards Veda and finally gave his answer:

**"Yes!"**

Next Episode 30: Bloody grip

* * *

Hope everyone enjoyed the chapter, and the revelations, plus campaign planning for the future.

The aliens Canus meets on Planet 31 are only partly original. They and other species will have a role to play in the future, connected to the vaults Leliana seeks.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age or Star Wars

* * *

Dragon Wars: The Force of Others

Episode 30: Bloody grip

Fame and fortune, Torvan loved it, his gambles paid off and he profited immensely from the victories of his fighters. The red eyed stranger fought another battle after Markus Grant. This time against the droids of the Jawa Korrenze group, not so much an individual as a group of droids after credits, they passionately cannibalised droids and sent them into the arena. Two Mark 2 assault droids, fitted with glowing orange blades, Sentinel droids with B1 heads and shock sticks and assassin droids fitted with electro staves. The stranger faced them with a one handed saw cleaver and stake driver. He was knocked around for a bit, and Torvan had never seen a fighter roll and parry so much in his life. Maximus though saw someone reading a pattern, searching for the gap. Once the stranger had it, he charged the weapons with electricity and bludgeoned his way through the droids. Soon after that another of Torvan's champions took to the arena.

The Twi'lek man was green skinned, and sported tattoos underneath the little armour he wore. Talon and the other disciples of Krayt watched the man fight with a long sword against Bodach'i gladiators. Reptilian men known for their strength, they easily fell to the Twi'lek man's blade. The 'Blade master' the crowd called him, and he fitted the name. But in his technique, the disciples saw the light sabre forms, flawless and perfect. Yet Krayt only stood for one fighter on that field. The red eyed stranger next fought a Nexu, suffering a savage slash to his chest. But in another great show of his magic, he used the blood to gouge out the creature's eyes before bashing it's head in with an axe.

Torvan's other slaves fought admirably as well, the Twi'lek migrants won against the Geonosian gladiators. The Zabrak brothers easily overpowered a band of Gamorreans, and though the Flesh Raiders lost a few of their numbers, they really entertained the crowd when they literally pulled an Acklay apart. Torvan heard the Blademaster's victory against the Mud Horn 'death by a thousand cuts' and it fit. It had been a brutal fight that lasted till the sun began to set, but when the Mud Horn fell to the floor the crowd screamed louder in appreciation of the entertainment. The last match of the day was another attempt of Kalla's at revenge against Torvan and the red eyed stranger. As if making up for the length for his previous battles, and the Blademaster's last fight, 13 finished the Jungle Rancor in very little time. Burning his boots again, he used burst of flame to manoeuvre himself like a rocket. Then he crashed his Buster Sword through the Rancor's skull.

"Finally, respect and fear, our house is now recognised as a house of champions," Torvan raised his glass, his prized slaves in front of him.

Daylen stood like a loyal servant should, as did the others. But inside they remained who they truly were. Moorint of Kalikori village, Shriv of the Duros. Daylen had yet to learn the name of the leader of the Dathomir Zabrak band, and the Blademaster he remembered from the other day, the scarred man who had lost one of his head tails.

"Continue to perform admirably on the field, and you shall reap the benefits," Torvan said, motioning to the cups on his desk.

"To your house master," Daylen was the first to take his cup and Moorint and Shriv followed.

The look of pride was a false one, a deception that he convinced Shriv and Moorint to follow. And through them he convinced other slaves to follow the same tactic. Mon Cals, Togruta, Twi'leks and Rodians, slowly they practiced and hid their anger.

"So you're convincing some to give up their pride," Mouse said to him in his dreams.

"You of all people should know, pride belongs to the individual," Daylen said.

"Intriguing, why would you say that?" the demon asked.

"When we first met, you took the form of a cowering mouse, the most powerful of the demons in the hierarchy and you took on such a form, yet you are still pride. Those slaves hold on to their pride, the pride that comes with the promise of freedom and they will be free," Daylen stated.

Mouse smirked then, and in the morning Vim had a matching smirk on his face as Daylen welcomed new slaves with his rations. Amongst the slaves, he met a human man with tanned skin and dark hair with some silver streaks.

"I'm late fifties, people on Tatooine tend to age faster, although it isn't always consistent," the man said.

"What's special about Tatooine?" Daylen asked.

"Twin suns, other than that it's the cesspit of the galaxy, I've been a slave since childhood though I was more an indentured servant, ever since the Brotherhood of Darkness starting forming bases on the planet the slave trade became more aggressive," the man explained.

"What if I told you things could be different here?"

"I'd be sceptical, but I'd listen!"

"I'm Daylen," he offered the man his hand.

"Kitster Banai, nice to meet you!"

Kitster had a Rodian friend, Wald, whom was unfortunate enough to have to spar with one of the Zabrak brothers. Wald wasn't strong, at least not in the way a fighter should be. He had worked as pit crew for an event called Pod racing, so he was broad and muscular for a member of his species. But the Zabrak brother was aggressive, unforgiving and relished the fight. He came close to bashing Wald's head in until Daylen tackled him from behind. Torvan had all three of them tortured, though not to the point of physically crippling them. Shared pain, shared humiliation, it was all piling up, it was all part of Daylen's plan.

On break he would talk, during training he would teach, meeting with Torvan he would map out the place, the guards and the master himself. During the moments he sat, he didn't contemplate his situation, he would look at the guards and their routine. Such a job would create a routine, every job needed one. Doing the same thing day in and day out could be boring, but it was easy for people, so they set routines. The few organic guards had a routine as set as the droids, and their pattern was easy to figure out for Daylen. They lacked any kind of AI that adapted, for Torvan's flaw was that he put money into slaves and his own gluttonous lifestyle.

At night, Daylen used his dreams and the Fade to compose methods of his escape. Calling spirits of imagination and possibility he set out the likelihood of his escape with certain allies and certain knowledge. He read possibilities where he lived, where he sacrificed himself so others could escape. Whenever the demons stared to gather, Daylen would wake himself and watch the night guards and droids and then return to the dreams. A peaceful night sleep was a rare thing for Daylen, and he had to hope too that the Sith would not come for him.

"Why have we not yet gone to him?" Maladi asked her master.

The old ships of Revan's empire were a popular choice, and consisted the bulk of the dark Jedi factions. Interdictor were easy to make and reliable, plenty had been left over from the Star Forge after its disappearance. Some pirates or smugglers based their entire fortune on owning the ships. Krayt stood on the bridge of the ship, looking down at the planet with his arms crossed behind his back.

"Master, I would never question your wisdom, but this red eyed man, slave 13 has shown that he is incredibly powerful and skilled as well, but also that his connection to the dark side is strong. Why have we not taken him?" Maladi asked.

"Tell me Maladi," Krayt began, after a brief silence. "If he was easy to take, would he be worth it?" he asked.

"I don't understand."

"If I wanted cannon fodder, I would simply recruit or purchase them, but an apprentice...I picked you all, because in one way or another you were exceptional. He will fall to the dark side, and when he does, he will willingly bow to me," Krayt explained.

"A ship is coming out of hyper space my lord," one of the acolytes said.

"Is it the Dark One?" Talon asked, seeing it was an Interdictor class ship.

Two more came out of hyperspace, followed by another, then a fourth. A moment passed before two Centurion class battle cruisers appeared. Another ship then followed, dwarfing the others. Krayt's eyes darkened, the glass on the bridge shaking.

"The old one," he corrected.

On the surface of Korvis, the masked man and his knights looked up at the sky, seeing the Mega-Class Star Dreadnought.

"Well, things are about to get very interesting," he mused.

Torvan walked out of his house with Maximus, looking up at the sky with the same dread and awe that every other slave dealer and gladiator owner on Korvis had. He relished at the thought of Kalla the Hutt shaking, her precious gladiator ring put at risk. But he also knew his profit was also at risk, perhaps his life. Dark Jedi factions were dangerous, once they decided that they didn't need to bargain, they would take what they wanted. Even if the criminals on Korvis combined their forces, the resulting battle would be too costly even if they won.

"My damn father's ghost must be laughing, what was it he said 'never attract too much attention son'," Torvan huffed.

He walked back into the house, grabbing a bottle on a tray carried by one of the Togruta females.

"There will be no leaving this planet now," Maximus said.

"Thank you for that observation, I feel praised to have a Mandalorian serve my house, tell me in your infinite wisdom Maximus can you gleam some way for this to work to my fucking advantage?" Torvan demanded.

He poured some of the contents of the bottle down his throat, moving his slaves aside with flourishes of his arms. Maximus returned to his quarters, placing his whip and sidearm on the table. He crouched by his locker, typed his code into the blue panel and opened it. Inside of it was a dirty white hard suit and plates of armour. A jet pack, gauntlets and a helmet with an antenna on the side of it. Maximus pulled the white helmet out of the box, running his fingers over the single line shaped black visor, underneath it was a white guard where the nose would be, and then a small black line before it reached the breather mask. Much like any other Mandalorian helm, the visor had formed a T-shape.

'An honourable battle is out there,' he remembered 13 saying.

Yet Maximus had turned his back on honour a long time ago. Or so he tried to convince himself. Reaching underneath his table, he pulled off the ale bottle he had taped to it. It was a numbing agent, not to get him drunk as Torvan seemed to want at the moment. When Maximus tilted a single shot of it down his throat, he forget the face of that slave. Then he shifted back into the mindset of a trainer and walked back down to the training grounds.

"Do not think that you are free, that people have come to liberate you, that republic ship you see is an old model used by those who have turned their backs on those sitting in power at Coruscant. Nothing has changed, you will continue to train and fight, and die in the arena if need be," Maximus said to the slaves.

Daylen looked up at the sky, seeing the grand fleet orbiting the planet. He grit his teeth together, shoulders trembling as he looked to the ground.

'Damn it, things are going to get harder now,' he thought.

In training he had been paired with the Blade Master. Both given wooden long swords, they clashed. Daylen was barely able to keep up, despite his age advantage. The Twi'lek man brought him to the ground in six moves.

"Impressive, you are a good fighter," the Blade Master said.

"But I'll never be a master of anything," Daylen said.

"Aye, but one doesn't necessarily need to be a master of something," Vim said, carrying a bucket of water hooked to his arm.

The older man knelt by one of the tired human slaves, taking the wooden ladle and pouring some water down the man's throat.

"I need to be better," Daylen muttered.

"Knowledge is power, skill power, the force..."

"What do you know about the force?" Daylen asked.

"I was once connected to it, Blade Master of the Brotherhood of Darkness, until I lost," the Twi'lek man said.

"But you turned away from the force?"

"No, I had my connection to it severed," the Blade Master's hand shook as if he had been robbed of property.

"Kas'Im," he named himself offering his hand to Daylen. "And I know the look in your eyes Stranger, it is the same as what Skere Kaan had!"

"Who is Skere Kaan?"

"A self righteous man, whom fancied himself a revolutionary and philosopher. Founder of the Brotherhood of Darkness after he left the Jedi order, believing them to be the ones responsible for the chaos across the galaxy," Kas'im explained.

"Who are the Jedi?" Daylen asked, and Kas'Im looked at the man in shock.

"The Jedi are the protectors of peace and justice across the republic," Vim said and smirked. "But do not count on them to come and help us!"

* * *

Coruscant-Jedi Temple

The members of the service corps felt out of place amongst the robe wearing Jedi. They still considered themselves Jedi, but seeing the poise of the members of the order, as well as the scale and grandeur of their temple reminded them that their own part of the galaxy had little support from the senate. Jay-Den and Sayla stood as Klue exited the elevator, recognising the look of disappointment across his face.

"What happened?" Tiko asked.

"How did it go?" Kaine asked.

"They refuse to intervene, the senate just announced that Korvis is not to be touched," Klue said.

"But why?" Sayla asked.

"The Chancellor recently came to an agreement with the border territories, a new treaty will shut down the Old republic military and replace it with the First Order military," Klue explained.

"But those bastards made their army from child soldiers," Sayla said.

"Yes, however, a treaty with them will rebuild our military strength and restore the outposts and systems lost to us during Revan and the Triumvirates reigns. Demilitarisation is still on his agenda, as recently the Order took possession of Kamino!"

"Those long necks?" Kaine asked.

"Cloners, as opposed to losing a military we dehumanise it, turn it into just another machine influenced by the vote of the senate," Klue lowered his head as he spoke, his hands trembling.

Anger was not the Jedi way, but feelings were natural. They saw the anger in the body language of their master, the disappointment in his eyes. They even sensed the betrayed feelings like a wave crashing over them, and in turn they too felt betrayed.

"Guys," Tiko pointed to a Holoscreen on the far wall of the temple.

They weren't the only ones looking at the screen. It showed a headline and reporters chasing after Carth Onasi. Gone was his military uniform, replaced by a beige coat and gloves.

_"Republic hero resigns!"_

"Admiral Onasi, Admiral, why have you resigned your commission?"

"What's your opinion of the chancellor's decision?"

"What are your plans now? Can you see yourself joining the separatist movement?"

The man was being bombarded by questions as he waited for a taxi. He turned to them, the whole galaxy able to see his anger.

" Kathleen Rian with Yensid news, Admiral Onasi, the senate's decision marks a turning point and a progression for the galaxy, why resign your commission at this time?"

"Because it is not the republic," Carth muttered.

"What was that?"

"BECAUSE IT IS NOT THE REPUBLIC!" he yelled.

The utter fury on the man's face shocked Klue, but he also didn't disagree.

"Our decision to abandon those people, to worse...legitimise their slavery, not just the people in the arenas on Korvis but the child soldiers used by the First Order is a betrayal of the ideals I and many other soldiers fought for," Carth explained.

"But these men and women will be freed once they have completed indentured servant contracts, what about the proposal for a clone army?"

"Indentured service is simply a 'nicer' way of referring to slavery. The clone army only reinforces this."

"But the lives of soldiers won't be lost anymore!"

"Lives will still be lost, only they won't have any choice...the clones will be slaves, and people like you will see them as flesh droids that can be disposed of. Some people, good people, fought and died for the republic, for freedom and justice, this isn't justice!"

"He's right," Klue muttered.

His students looked at him, seeing the depression in his eyes.

"This isn't the republic I remember, the republic I swore to defend," Klue said.

They walked out of the temple, down the steps towards their cab. But before they could step onto the transport, a silver droid rolled towards them, its frantic beeps catching their attention.

"What is that?" Kaine asked.

"T3-M4, Master Surik's droid," Klue said.

* * *

Korvis

Kas'Im and Daylen stood facing one another. The Blade Master had his sword at the ready, holding it in Form 1. Daylen raised his sword over his head, gripping it with both hands. For a moment Kas'Im wondered if it was a light sabre form, but the stance had subtle differences. Again they both shifted their stances, Kas'Im to form 3 whilst Daylen held his sword out in front of him. Then a third time they changed, Kas'Im to Ataru and Daylen raised his sword and held it at an angle.

"You, there is an air about you, tell me, is sword combat common on your world?" Kas'Im asked.

"It was the most common form of combat, before the Sith came to my world," Daylen said.

"Tell me more," Kas'Im demanded, his eyes wide in shock.

"Yes, tell us boy, of the Sith empire," Vim said, walking up to the pair.

It was after training when the three of them gathered at Daylen's cell. He gave them an abridged version of his story, the way the Sith conquered his world, their rebellion and his arrival in their galaxy. What he didn't include was the Lyrium, magic and the fade, nothing that could paint Thedas as a world worth attacking. It was the first time Daylen had seen Kas'Im sweat.

"Lord Hoth announced his intention to destroy the Sith, the teachings of the Dark Jedi have been drawn from the Sith. Marka Ragnos, Naga Sadow, the great Sith kings," Vim mused.

"But the Sith species itself, as well as the empire it once was, has been thought extinct for a thousand years, and you say they were simply in a different part of the galaxy?" Kas'Im asked.

"I do!"

"I know liars when I see them, this boy is no liar, still it will be difficult to return to your world, some might even go so far as to saying impossible," Vim explained.

"With that fleet there, many of the possibilities I considered are voided, yet there has to be a way," Daylen slammed his fist into the wall.

The two men looked down at Daylen.

"I have to free these people, I have to stop them," he said.

Kas'Im huffed and turned his back.

"You know, Skere Kaan was once a good man, whom believed that the Jedi Order and their hubris were the reason the galaxy was so chaotic. He believed he could turn the darkness into a positive force, and bring peace and justice to all. Yet somewhere along the line, he got caught up in the darkness, he looked at the abyss for too long. And in time he became everything he fought against, as is common for those whom draw upon the dark side," he explained.

"It's funny," he looked back at Daylen. "In you, I see what I once saw from him, the desire to save everyone. But if you're going to save anyone, then you'll need to make tough decisions. Save yourself to one day save others, kill to save others."

"But sometimes it all works out the same way," Vim interrupted. "Hubris, greed, corruption, you'll lose sight of your original goal and fall to darkness."

"They're right Day, don't lose yourself to this," Jowan said.

Daylen looked briefly to his side, seeing his old friend again. The ghostly apparition reached a hand to touch his shoulder. But when Daylen raised his own hand, Jowan faded with a face filled with regret. Daylen looked at the robotic appendage and tightened it into a fist.

"More power, I need more power," he whispered.

"That is how it starts," Vim said, crossing his sleeves together and walking away with Kas'Im.

When Daylen was next force into the arena. He walked onto it carrying a longsword in one hand and a curved sword in the other, it reminded Daylen of the swords the people East of Thedas used (Katanas he recalled them being named). Daylen raised his head to the arena and saw the troopers guarding the steps and entrances of the stands. White armoured, much like the troopers occupying Thedas, but their helmets weren't as thick and they all had a black and red pad on their right shoulders. Daylen then looked up to the VIP balcony and saw a cloaked trooper in silver armour, flanking a man in a black military uniform and coat. And ahead of that man, their gloved hand resting on the railing was a man in a black coat and hood, a light sabre handle hanging off of his belt.

Swallowing the surge of hatred that rang through him, Daylen turned to his opponent.

"Hailing from Dathomir, a practitioner of the dark magics of that planet, I present to you, THE NIGHTMARE!" the announcer yelled.

He was a Zabrak, his skin dark red, with brighter red tatoos across his face. He wore a set of gold armour on his upper body, robes on his lower body and armoured gloves. In his hand he held a double bladed sword. Daylen got into the ready stance and waited for the match to start. Suddenly, the door opened on the other side of the arena. A white haired man came out, wearing light Echani armour and wielding a pair of Echani Vibroblades. Then there was a Weequay with a Vibro-axe.

"Looks like we have some new challengers folks, from Paxton Chemicals, the Nightmare's new brothers in arms, THE SHIV AND THE DESERT STORM!" the announcer signalled the crowd to cheer.

His opponents began to circle him, Daylen kept his guard raised, watching every movement his opponents made. He calmed his breathing, and waited. Suddenly, the Nightmare slammed his hand into the ground. Vines suddenly wrapped around Daylen's legs, conjured by some sort of green portal beneath him. The Echani and Weequay took their chances to strike.

'A Zabrak brother that can use Night sister magic,' Maximus widened his eyes in shock.

Daylen parried the Echani's swords, and blocked the Weequay's axe. He diverted their blades towards one another, forcing both back. Focusing his magic, Daylen employed Earth magic to make the ground shake. He noticed the slight tremble of the arena and the people in it. It was enough to keep his opponent's off balance. But the vines, Daylen burned through his boots again, and the vines too. Then he ran for the greater threat. He never understood double bladed weapons, they always seemed too much trouble to master for not enough reward. The Zabrak though was good, using the weapon as both spear and sword. He was good at spinning it too, knocking Daylen off balance for a moment. Daylen quickly dived, avoiding the Weequay's axe. Throwing sand into the Echani's eyes, Daylen threw his long sword, cutting the Zabrak's cheek. He broke off into a run, focusing on the sword.

"That's it Day, use the force," Petra encouraged him.

He reached out, felt the sword tremble, then with a tug of his arm the blade flew, imbedding itself into the Echani's neck. Daylen's eyes flashed to the blade he held, focusing his magic through it. Increasing its density and sharpness, surrounding it in a mana field. Then he swung it, cleaving through the Weequay's neck and cutting the Zabrak's weapon apart. Suddenly, green lightning crackled from the Zabrak's hands, slamming into Daylen's chest and throwing him back. He slid across the sand, rolling onto a heap and looking towards the Zabrak. Green energy glowed around him as he moved his hands over the corpses of the Echani and the Weequay. Both began to rise, like puppets on a string. Their eyes glowed and when they opened their mouths, a green mist emanated from their throats. Daylen raised his hand, pulling one of the Zabrak's swords towards him. But, much to the mage's shock, the Zabrak took hold of the sword and called the second blade to his hand. He linked the swords together, a green spark repairing the double bladed staff.

"You impressed the crowd with your conjurer tricks, but there are more subtle uses of magic," the Zabrak took a few steps towards Daylen.

Suddenly, the Zabrak exploded in a burst of green smoke. Daylen raised his sword right on time, the Zabrak struck his guard when he reappeared to his right. Taking a few steps back, Daylen raised his guard again, barely parrying the Zabrak's second teleporting strike. When the smoke passed, both reanimated corpses struck. The Weequay's axe knocked Daylen off balance, and the Echani slashed his left shoulder and thigh with his swords. Daylen brought his hand up, blocking the swords with his robotic hand. Then he blocked the Zabrak's sword. But the Zabrak had teleported, striking Daylen's guard with enough force to knock him back. Quickly rolling, Daylen dodged the Weequay's follow up swing.

'Focus, come one, focus,' Daylen told himself.

'Fire, no ice, the force, wind, lightning,' he dodged and blocked, seeing parts of the sword blunt as his opponents teleported and struck again and again.

"Entropy spells could be used against Necromancers Daylen," Kinnon told him.

"No try an Anti-magic burst," Petra said.

"He only really bothered with the telekinesis branch of the Spirit school," Niall noted.

"MAYBE NOT DISTRACT HIM GUYS!" Jowan yelled.

The Zabrak cut the thumb off of Daylen's right hand, switching him to switch his sword hand. He then raised the hand when the Zabrak fired the green lightning at him. It pushed him across the sand, and in a flash blew Daylen's right robotic arm apart and threw him onto his back.

'Damn it, not here,' Daylen thought.

He surrounded himself with a field, deflecting the Zabrak's sword. Then he rolled onto a knee, and jumped forward, kneeing the Weequay in the face. The Zabrak rushed forward, but Daylen knocked the Weequay into him. Another surge of green lightning slammed into his sword.

'Not in a disgusting place like this, with disgusting people like this,' he grit his teeth together.

The people in the arena called for death, called for blood. They cheered for the Zabrak as he broke the tip of Daylen's sword. Cried out in awe when green fire spread across the blades of the Zabrak's staff. He twirled the double blade around, clashing with Daylen's sword a few times before their blades crashed. Daylen focused on his sword, trying to put fire through it, but the Weequay and Echani moved in. The flat end of the Weequay's axe managed to catch the side of Daylen's head, and the Echani's sword nipped his neck.

'In a galaxy as grand as this, as advanced as this, why, why do they act like this? Why is the galaxy still this cruel, this disgustingly savage? Why do people allow it to be like this? Doesn't anyone care?'

Some of the green fire burned the right side of his hip. And the Zabrak thrust his hand forward, a rush of wind and sand blowing Daylen back. The mage fell to his back, partly blinded and coated by the sand.

'Why don't people do something about it? How can they claim to be better, to be advanced, if they let this world, and the kind of people here exist,' Daylen's teeth grit together, he trembled in fury. 'Won't anyone do something? Won't anyone say STOP!'

A tear ran down his cheek, a tear of blood as his right eye took on a deeper shade of red.

"Daylen, is this how you really feel about all of this?" Jowan asked.

"You have so much anger Daylen," Greagoir said.

"I always knew you'd make a good Sith," Kaius smirked.

"Daylen," Petra and Niall looked at him with pity.

'Isn't there anyone, who will save us?' Daylen wondered, trying to get back up, but collapsing again.

"Wasn't that your goal hero?" Daveth asked.

"Don't tell me you're finally going to pray," Cousland said.

"You know that no one will hear you," Tabris said.

"But the force can still help you, if you let it in Daylen," Lily said.

"Day!" Jowan whispered.

'Someone, anyone, I need...I need, more power,' Daylen thought, eyes darting to every jeering and disgusting spectator's face. 'More power...so I can kill them all!'

* * *

Coruscant

The Corps members and Klue sat in their ship, looking over the Astromech droid. T3-M4 wasn't the most advanced of models nowadays, but during the days of Revan and Malak, it was capable of breaking any encryption. It had also saved the Ebon Hawk crew from the Leviathan and after Revan's fall went onto serve Meetra Surik. T3 let out a series of beeps, Tiko and Klue were both the experts on droid speak so they understood and translated.

"He said he's no longer in service of Master Surik," Tiko said.

"And that he has been given a message to relay to us, go on T3," Klue said.

A light shined from the projector built onto T3's eye. To the surprise of the Corps members, it formed the shape of Grand Master Meetra Surik. She had an apologetic look on her face and looked at her surroundings.

"Master Klue, during the days of the Mandalorian wars you protested against my use of the Mass Shadow generator, out of all the other Jedi that followed Revan, you knew when it was time to stop fighting. Back in the council chamber, it was politics and fear that drove our decision not to intervene on Korvis. As Grand Master, and a supporter of democracy, I had to follow the majority of the council vote," she explained.

Klue shook his head in disapproval, but then lowered it in disappointed understanding. The Jedi Order was split apart by a schism, the order of the old republic needed the republic's support. And as protectors of democracy, it would have been hypocritical for them to not defend the decision of the senate, even if it was a decision they didn't agree with. No one on the council was cold enough to actually support the decision, or to actually want to leave someone to slavery.

"But there is more to this decision than simply bringing a slow end to war, than a political compromise. Your investigation, and the force itself led you to Korvis, to the survivor of that mysterious ship, and the knowledge that he possesses. I sense that he has a role to play, that what he knows may be the key to protecting the republic

"So I must ask you, please, disobey our order not to intervene. Go to Korvis, save those people and bring the survivor back to republic space. Get in contact with Carth Onasi, he will know what to do. Some of us are bound Klue, but the service corps is not, I am not asking you to put any of your students in danger, for there are dark times ahead, I can feel it. If we give up Korvis to the dark Jedi, then the republic as we know it will fall. Please Klue, save the people there, you're their only hope," Surik said, and finally the message stopped.

Klue raised his head and looked at his light sabre.

"My students, I want you..."

"We're going with you," Sayla said.

"That's right, how can any of us stand by when those people on Korvis need us?" Jay-Den asked.

"It isn't that simple, what kind of teacher would I be if put you in danger like that?" Klue asked.

"We've been training hard master, why bother teaching us at all if we can't fight?" Kaine asked.

"There's no real guarantee that we'll have to fight," Tiko said.

"It will certainly lead to a fight, I don't want any of you to die because of this or worse. There are dark side practitioners on Korvis, and even the most strong willed and kindest of people can be tempted. Even those whom are telling themselves that what they're doing is right, that their compromises are necessary, that they are only giving into the dark side just a small amount can fall," Klue explained.

"Master, from how things seem, you might need all the help you can get," Tiko said and the other students nodded.

Klue sighed as he turned away from his students.

"I want you to take the ship, and go to Dantooine, there are caves outside the former temple," he said.

"Is it finally time?" Kaine asked.

"It is time at least for you to put those tech blades down, if you succeed in building them, then you will be ready to join me on Korvis," Klue said.

"Thank you for this chance master, it's like Master Surik said, we may be their only hope," Sayla said.

"No, I suspect that there is another on Korvis already!"

* * *

Daylen looked up at the sun, at the faces of the mages around him. Petra, Jowan, Niall, Kinnon, Nilrem, Harry, Sabrina and a multitude of others.

"Your magic is enough," Jowan said to him.

"It isn't!"

"Then make up for it with the force Daylen," Petra said.

'The force, the force, what good is it to me? If it couldn't even keep you all safe, it is as useful to me as the Maker was, as believing was, as FAITH WAS!'

"You believed in us didn't you?" Niall asked.

'And then you died.'

"You believed in Surana and in the choice you made didn't you?" Petra asked.

'And people still died!'

"I was jealous of you, you know, that's why I dabbled in blood magic. But you and I both know that such a thing comes with a cost, your eyes, your ability to heal others. No matter how hard you study the creation school, you can never heal another. But what you are considering, what you are deciding to do, it will destroy you Daylen, if you linger too close to the edge of darkness then you will inevitably fall off that ledge. You are the kindest, and bravest I have ever known and I know that you can get through this with your tactics and your belief. Your magic is still yours Daylen, don't you understand?" Jowan asked.

'I understand, I couldn't save you, I couldn't save anyone. I failed to live up to my ideals and my dreams, ideals and dreams that weren't even mine to begin with. It was his dream, it was Fausten Amell's dream to be a hero, to be good.'

"It was your dream too Daylen," Kinnon said.

"You know that it was your dream too," Petra nodded.

'But it wasn't enough, my magic, my power isn't enough to stop evil. Goodness and light isn't enough to stop evil!'

"So what will you do?" Mouse asked, the forms of the mages fading.

'I will sacrifice, I'll jump into the darkness and blood if I have to,' Daylen thought.

"Oh Daylen," Mouse shook his head. "All right, maybe just a little, if you're willing to pay the price!"

'I...'

"Do it Daylen Amell," Kaius said, suddenly appearing above him. "It is the only way you will gain back the power you lost, and more."

'I...I will!' Daylen thought.

Mouse shook his head again, but then began to push his fingers together.

"Very well, I impart upon you Daylen Amell cursed knowledge, the Mark of blood!" he clicked his fingers together.

A red and black haze appeared around Daylen as he rolled across the floor. The Zabrak stopped, shocked by the bulge that formed on Daylen's right stump. Then the bulge burst, throwing the circuitry of the old robotic arm across the floor. Daylen screamed in agony, his voice echoing out of his mouth. Coils of blood came out of his arm, expanding, slamming onto the floor in the form of a snarling maw. Then it formed a disfigured fist, lashing out at the Zabrak and forcing him to jump back. Black lightning, with a red outline crackled across the arm and half of Daylen's face. Then red fire with a black core shot out at the arena's far wall, coating it like dragon's breath. The mound of blood began to shrink and Daylen watched as it formed a new arm. Five digits, but the skin was rough red, a construct of dried blood with veins of it stretching up to Daylen's shoulder. Flexing the fingers of his new hand, he formed a fist and then opened it, lightning and fire crackled in his hand, giving off the same black and red affect it had before. And the ice, even that was black and red, his magic felt different now, wrong somehow. Yet he could feel the power flow through him, and drawing on the dark side, as well as his own tolerance, he worked through the immense burning pain in the nerves of his arm. Gripping his sword, Daylen moved towards his opponent.

"An unexpected development folks, what terrifying feats is the red eyed stranger capable of now..."

_**"MY NAME IS DAYLEN AMELL!"**_ Daylen yelled.

His voice echoed, darkness covering every inch of his body, only his red eyes glowing through it. The people in the arena had grown silent, looking at Daylen with fear. He took a few steps forward, the darkness fading as fire formed in his right hand. Throwing his arm forward, he unleashed the black flames on the Echani corpse, burning it into ribbons. The Weequay corpse brandished its axe, only for Daylen to throw his hand forward again. This time, a black mist emanated from Daylen's finger tips. The mist consumed the Weequay, forming black crystals that froze him. Daylen shattered the crystal and the Weequay with a punch, his eyes set on the Zabrak.

"NOT THIRTEEN! NOT YOUR SLAVE! NOT YOUR ENTERTAINMENT!" Daylen roared.

The Zabrak swung his double blade, but with a single swing of his sword, Daylen shattered one of the blades. He amplified his strength with the dark side, focusing on his anger, and surrounded the sword with a field of black and red magic. It increased the weapon's density, a different use of the telekinetic weapon spell that Daylen again applied to shatter the Zabrak's other blade. The Zabrak jumped back and conjured his green lightning again, this time firing it with both hands. Daylen blocked the lightning with the palm of his new hand, his face showing mild annoyance. Slowly, the lightning began to change its colour to the same black and red lightning that Daylen had used. When it finally reached the Zabrak's hands, he recoiled away in horror. Veins of blood began to form on his arms, making his skin bubble.

"What have you...WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME!" the Zabrak screamed.

Daylen slowly raised his hand, levitated the ticking Zabrak bomb. The man was in agony, his skin burning as the red and black energy popped his eyes and gushed out of his mouth. Daylen prepared to throw it at the crowd of people, to blow them to bits and infect the others with the Zabrak's now poisoned blood and guts. A sadistic smile crossed his face as he imagined the pain he could put them in. But then, he saw them, children clutching their parent's legs. Yet they were still here, watching this, their parents were responsible.

'But they're still kids,' Daylen thought.

He wanted to throw him, he needed to throw him. Damn those children, they were spectators to this sickness now. Yet they were not yet capable of deciding whether this was right or wrong yet. They were just a group of children, stuck in the dumb decisions their parents had made. Tragic but necessary sacrifices for a just cause.

'Damn it, what am I doing?' Daylen wondered, dropping his smile, disgusted with himself. 'Yet, if I don't kill these people, WHO WILL?'

Before he could truly decide however, pain ran through his neck. The shock collar brought him to his knees, forcing him to drop the Zabrak bomb, which detonated on the ground. The man in the black uniform stroked his chin, intrigued and impressed by the display. Daylen however screamed, both in pain from the collar and his new arm, and the regret over what he had considered becoming.

Next Episode 31: Raid

* * *

The look of Daylen's new arm is inspired by Ninja Gaiden's grip of murder.

Next time the Rebels commence their operations against the Empire.


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age or Star Wars

* * *

Dragon Wars: The Force of Others

Episode 31: Raid

Val Royeaux

Asher raised the wine glass to his lips, smirking as he watched his apprentice practicing. The Kossith giant was using an axe against the shock sticks of two red guards. Much could be said about the skill of the red guards, they had little training in the force, but excelled at close quarters. Kargon was no master swordsman, but he had the strength and rage. Head butting one of the armoured guards, he slashed the man across the chest and caught the other guard's shock stick. He roared through the volts and threw the man across the room. Asher stood and clapped his hands as if applauding a dance.

"Well done, the force can be used to increase your pain tolerance, even negate pain altogether," he walked across the training arena, once the home of a prominent Orlesian noble.

Servants both Orlesian, elf and alien watched with a mixture of fascination and fear. Darth Asher was a handsome, dark haired man who spoke with a charismatic charm. But he was also known as the man whom could see through all lies. He had coerced a cathedral full of people to give up their secrets, enrooted a network of spies and rebels within the capital, and killed the lover of the Devine. He put his hands behind his back and walked to Kargon's side. The Kossith man wore a grey chest plate and shoulder pads with the imperial insignia on it. His right horn had been cut off, and his remaining horn curved like a goat's.

"But there is one thing that the force can help you to do with pain, to use it," Asher grinned.

He suddenly swung his arm around, pushing Kargon against the wall. Volts of lightning stretched from Asher's fingertips, binding Kargon's arms and legs. The Kossith yelled in agony, froth rising from his mouth and eyes watering.

"Those whom draw from the dark side can literally sustain themselves on anger, on pain, try to use it my apprentice, make a weakness your strength," Asher stated, holding up his hand and continuing to bombard Kargon with bolts.

Kargon roared, banging his fist against the wall. He had generated a force wave that make Asher take a single step back. His apprentice landed, dragging his axe across the floor and swinging it towards him. Asher side stepped each of Kargon's swings, easily walking around him, dodging with simple tilts of his head or steps. Kargon's frustration grew as he continued swinging, crashing his axe down on the floor inches from Asher's foot. Asher motioned with his hand, pushing Kargon back. His anger having reached its boiling point, Kargon threw his axe into the wall and raised his hands. He threw his hands forward, and Asher raised his hand in defence. The two force waves collided, throwing many of the people in the room back. Kargon lowered his hands, breathing heavily, like an ox ready to charge.

"Very good, very good my apprentice," Asher said.

He lowered his hand to his chest level, and smirked as Kargon's anger faded. A red crystal floated out of a bag on Asher's waist. It floated in the centre of his hand.

"A synthetic kyber crystal, still capable of generating quite significant levels of power, enough for a light sabre," he stated.

Kargon reached out with the force, taking it from Asher's grip. He grabbed the crystal and huffed.

"Am I done now?" he demanded.

"You're not yet a true lord of the Sith, but you're certainly on the way to becoming one. There's something I want you to do for me Kargon, your new light sabre will assist you in this task," Asher explained, walking back to the table where the wine and glasses had been set.

With the force he poured the wine into a glass, afterwards lifting the glass into his hand.

"It's time to truly test your skill in live combat Kargon!"

* * *

Free Marches-Minanter River

"Blessed are those whom stand against the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter, blessed are the peacekeepers, champions of the Just," Sebastian made the necessary motions with his hand and the Starkhaven archers rose with him.

They snuck through the bushes, their signature armour replaced with the garbs of the forest. On another side of the wood, the Dalish Hunter Arianne held onto her bow, other Hunters of her clan beside her. They waited for their quarry to pass, a caravan of prisoners, potential fighters for the new rebellion. The Wagon came around, native Thedas men and women in Sith military garb protected them. Ill trained with their blasters, they would be easy pickings for the ambush tactics that Sebastian devised.

First they tripped the mine, of course on instinct they would look to the explosion that threw one of their comrades up. Hall and Thornton threw off their camouflage cloaks, firing arrows through the throats of the more experienced Storm trooper commanders. Then they threw the smoke bombs down. Sebastian and his corps let out a volley, hitting and downing several of the troops. Arianne then came down with her warriors, drawing their swords and cutting through.

Once the men were dead, Sebastian left the freeing of the prisoners and their armament to Arianne. He knelt by the body of a human boy, gurgling because of the arrow through his heart. Sebastian took hold of the boy's hand and put his other hand over his forehead.

"Maker, gods of the fade, of nature and the universe, the force of others, bless this one for his courage and devotion. Bless whatever he leaves behind and grant them better fortunes, grant him a place in a universe without war, forgive his sins, and forgive our sins. But if it is the will of the whills, for us to face righteous punishment, know that we will fight for redemption and for what we value in this world, as this one fought for what he valued," Sebastian prayed, even when the boy had passed.

"Isn't he getting the prayer wrong?" Hall asked.

"Sebastian believes in the Maker still, in the force too, he believes now that all gods and deities are simply the same manifestation of universal chance and destiny...or something like that, he might have been drunk," Thornton explained.

Rubbing his beard as he stood, Sebastian kissed the Andrastian symbol he held before putting it back in his pouch. Then he turned to his men, hardening his face.

"Take the wagon, take the uniforms and possessions, dump the bodies into the river!"

* * *

Green Dale

Bethany summoned her barrier, taking a blast from a Sith fighter. Iapo then came around in the B-28, blowing the fighter out of the sky. It crashed into the imperial line, the troopers firing at the dug down rebels. Nathaniel lifted the heavy bow caster with the help of the Northern allies. They pulled the chord back, opened the bow arms and released a plasma bolt into the imperials. F8 rolled around the imperials, releasing smoke. There was a growling sound, followed by screams. Werewolves moved through the smoke, Fenris with them. His lyrium marks glowed and he cut through enemies with his hands, the werewolves ripping others apart.

"Take that, that, that, and that!" Sera said, sluggishly flying her B-28 and hitting imperial tanks with her bombs.

"BRING DOWN THAT BOMBER!" the Imperial commander yelled.

The Imperial tank hovered over the grass, aiming its cannon at the sky. It fired, sending bolts towards Sera. She barely dodged one, and cursed as another damaged the bomber's left wing. The imperial tank prepared for another blast, but a shadow was suddenly cast over it. A Sylvan reached into the tank hatch, pulling out the pilot and crushing his head. Bethany and her mages then hit the troopers and commander with fire and lightning. A cheer erupted as the rebels gained an upper hand. But Bethany looked at the bodies of both rebel and imperial soldier, she wondered if it was all worth it?

* * *

Bendu System-Montilyet trade ship

Josephine looked over the files of the people she had gathered. Good people with good intentions, and great marks as pilots. She was looking forward to seeing the young men and women she had gathered take part in a test flight. All she had to do was get them to Hego Damask. She walked onto the bridge, smiling at the other Antivan natives, and the imperial sympathetic to their course. Captain Antilles had helped the Montilyet trade organisation modernise, and had been a personal friend to the family.

"Soon to be going home Miss Montilyet?" he asked.

"Of course, I'm looking forward to a reunion with mother and father, they have a marriage arrangement for me. We have been exchanging Holo-calls, and the occasional eloquent letter," Josephine explained.

"Marriage, I was surprised marriage arrangements were still common on your planet," the Captain said.

"We would not part with all our traditions, even marriage can be an effective bargaining chip, but the virtue of a bride is less important now," Josephine said.

Antilles laughed, turning back to his work. Josephine looked out of the window, marvelling at the nebulas in the distance, the debris field around one of the nearby planets. Space was truly marvellous to her, and she looked forward to seeing more of it on her terms, or rather Thedas's terms. That future would be a long time, but Josephine had faith in the Maker still and in the numbers. The Sith was like Tevinter, an empire that would fail as most empires did. A beeping sound caught her attention, and Josephine turned to Captain Antilles.

"Something's come out of light speed, Imperial vessel, registered under the Thedas Defence corp." he turned his nose up at the identification code.

The Star Destroyer flew alongside the small cruiser. Josephine looked at the vessel, huge to her but small considering the more advanced imperial craft out there.

"They're hailing us sir," one of the crew said.

"Accept the call," Antilles put on a brave face and adjusted his blue uniform.

A hologram appeared before the captain, a young man in a uniform with his arms crossed. He had a sword strapped to his belt and handsome features.

"Captain Antilles, I am Captain Fausten Thrennhold of the Thedas Defence corp. I understand you recently exchanged goods with Karde station," the young man stated, his voice courteous and calm.

Though from her understanding of the subtleties of business negotiation, she could tell that this in no way made the man seem weak. Even as a hologram, his body language was one of confidence, not arrogance, a tone of control and not demand.

"We did, we had dropped off shipments of materials from Antiva, as well as privately agreed upon items, toys, models of landmarks and wines. In fact we can send you records of the exchange and our cargo if you'd like," Antilles explained.

The captain himself maintained his pose, keeping level headed as he needed to.

"You picked up many passengers, we have reason to believe that amongst them were deserters of the Ford starfighter academy," Fausten said.

"Deserters, by the emperor, I had no idea, I will review my security and the training of my customs agents. If these men are on my ship, I assure you I can deliver them to you without incident if you send me some of the details," Antilles said.

"That will be quite unnecessary," Fausten shook his head. "Concerns of security now fall under the jurisdiction of the Defence Corps. Reviews of protocol and performance will be carried out by officers of the Defence corps, not private parties, under the governing headlines of the Security act section 31 and the import performance commission. My helmsmen will give you further instructions and coordinates, you will dock with our ship and submit yourselves to our inspection," the captain explained.

"Very well," Antilles nodded his head.

When the hologram disappeared, he nodded to the other crew members. Then he turned to Josephine.

"Just as we discussed Miss Montilyet," he said.

Josephine nodded her head and made her way off of the bridge. She broke off into a run to the pilot's quarters.

"Everyone, we need to make our way to the escape pods, now!" she commanded.

The young men and women followed Josephine to the escape pods. They would not jettison all of them, Antilles altered his records to show that they had disposed of six damaged pods. Josephine climbed into her pod with her charges, strapping herself into the support chair. Antilles jettisoned the pods close to the debris field of the nearby planet. They would hide there until he contacted Demask with the news that something had gone wrong. Josephine watched both ships through the observation window.

'Good luck,' she thought.

A rock hovered by the window, much to Josephine's annoyance. But when the rock turned, it revealed a mechanical arm, and a rotating head with a camera on it.

"Maker no," Josephine gasped.

An imperial probe droid, one of quite a few in the debris field. They must have been deployed earlier by the imperials. Fausten anticipated a cover plan. Josephine could already see the Tie Interceptors blowing up the thrusters of the rebel ship. She brought her hand to her mouth in horror as the probe droid began to cut into the pod. Her charges behind her scrambled to get the emergency oxygen masks on. A mask was forced over her head and she looked out of the window, past the probe droid to see one of the pods getting blown open, the droid firing blaster bolts into it. They weren't recovering prisoners, they were killing them.

'No wait,' Josephine narrowed her eyes, seeing that the probe droid was picking up some of the passengers.

That was it, she knew what she had to do, turn herself into a target. In her eyes, her life didn't matter, just the pilots behind her. She unstrapped herself, moved in front of them and braced herself. Josephine was no fighter, she was terrified, adrenaline took hold. The rebellion, the chance for freedom from the Sith was everything to her.

'Mother, father, Yvette, forgive me, I won't be coming home,' she thought.

When the door was blown open, she threw herself at the probe droid. The bolts tore through her chest, and she felt one sear her cheek. One pilot dead behind her, shot in the head. But three alive, three she saved. As the light left her eyes, she looked at the pilots, being grabbed by the probe droids and carried on a path towards the imperial ship. Alive and with a chance to be rescued, those pilots would live to fight another day, she thoroughly believed that. Someone would rescue them.

'Someone will save us,' she thought, her breath fading.

She hung her head back, opened her eyes and let space take her.

On the observation deck of the imperial ship, Dorian watched the probe droids returning.

'I know we had a plan for me to eventually leave father, but...can I really standby and do nothing right **now**?' he wondered.

* * *

Thedas System-Ferelden-Storm Coast

Alistair looked at himself in the reflection of the water, before raising his head and looking towards the Imperial island base. He looked behind him, seeing the Storm Coast rebels with their weapons and the lyrium paint over their arms. Irving put the lyrium paint over his cheeks and imbedded his staff in the boat.

"Are you sure about this?" Alistair asked.

"Would you laugh if I said I was lying before about my confidence?" Irving asked back.

He brought his hands together, focusing his mana, focusing on the lyrium that the other rebels had marked themselves with. Irving took a deep breath, exhaled, then breathed in again. The engines on the boats ignited, and they began charging towards the imperial beach. Coast troopers began rushing to turret guns, and assembling their rocket launchers. A row of troopers marched to the trenches and sand bag shelters, aiming their rifles at the beach line. Alistair couldn't look at his face in the water anymore. He couldn't see his father or brother's faces, the faces of people who failed in two ways to gain independence for their people. One through fighting, the other through appeasement.

'Here I am fighting, using what Daylen left behind, but what if I'm not good enough?' he wondered.

Irving was faced with a similar conflict. Daylen, whom he saw as a son was not here. Yet he took comfort in the fact that something he left behind remained with them. A way to fight, a new way for Irving and other mages to use their magic. Focusing on the lyrium, on his mana and on his cause, Irving shaped his spell. The raw energy swirled around him.

"OPEN FIRE!" the Imperial base commander yelled.

A torrent of red blasts flew towards the rebel boats. Irving stretched his hands out, conjuring a shield to block the blasts targeting his boat. Others weren't so lucky, some of the men on other boats, died, one was even capsized by a heavy plasma bolt. Another went out of control, tipping over and drowning the men on it. Irving and Alistair both grit their teeth together, both fighting the doubt inside of them as much as they would fight the empire.

'Remember,' they both thought.

'I am not my father, I am not my brother, I am not Daylen!' Alistair put his axe on his back and took out the white sabre.

'Remember, thoughts, and words, ARE POWER!' Irving roared in his head and raised his hand over his head.

"Though I am withered, I am still strong...though I have been asleep, I am now awakened...my will is a sword, my thoughts are power...I am one with the force, as all things are...I am with the force, as it is with me! Through light and darkness I walk, never blind, never afraid...through my will and my heart and my determination, I summon thee, warrior of light and darkness! MY SWORD AND MY WRATH! MY BLADEWORKS!"

The blue energy faded out for but a moment. Before the paint on Irving's face, and the arms of the rebels on his boat glowed. Suddenly, the blue energy reappeared. Irving roared, his eyes glowing blue. Alistair had once seen the construct that Daylen summoned. What Irving created was identical, save for the cloak flowing behind its back, and the fact that it held two great blades. One of light energy, and another of dark flames.

'You're still with me Daylen, as I am still with you, as the force is with all of us,' Irving thought, triumphantly sending the grand construct forward.

It took the energy blasts, and when it reached the Imperial line, it span around, dragging its swords across the ground. The giant blades tore through the shelters, throwing troopers into the air. Alistair's boat was the first to land, and he was the first to step off. The white blade of his sabre ignited and he raised it high.

"FOR THE REBELLION!" he yelled. "THE FORCE IS WITH US!"

The rebels stepped off of the boats, those around Irving revealing the mana armour on their arms, and the blades and crossbows that he had summoned for them. Irving's eyes still glowed, even as a drop of blood dripped down his nose. He picked up his staff and thrust it forward. The construct threw one of its swords into the turret, significantly damaging it. Then it flew, raised the sword over its head and crashed it into the turret. The resulting explosion destroyed the construct, and spread across the imperial base.

"FORWARD!" Alistair roared.

Dragging the sabre behind him, he ran with his men towards the imperial forces. As the Shore troopers recovered, Alistair swung the sword around, cleaving a trooper in half. His silver left white lines in the air, swinging into the troopers again and again. The other rebels brought sword and axe down, mana blade and bolt from conjured crossbow. Volleys of arrows stunned the troopers, leaving them vulnerable to Alistair. He jumped into a trench, hacking and slashing the men inside. One bolt flew at him, but he deflected it back at the shooter. Another struck his back and he yelled, fighting through the pain. Grabbing a rifle, he shot the man who shot him, then threw the rifle aside. Another bolt struck his shield, but he kept charging forward. He bashed a trooper across the head, and cut through another with the sabre.

The Storm coast rebels fell in behind him, bringing down more enemies whilst Irving recovered. He drank one mana potion after another, recovering his already exceedingly high mana pool. Fully charged, he summoned a perfect storm. Bolts of lightning crashed down on top of the Imperial troopers. Some ran away, others stood and fought but were cut down, or struck by arrows and blaster bolts. Alistair put his shield on his back, running and slashing two troopers. He looked up at the shadow in the sky, following it across the island, taking cover to avoid Imperial blaster fire. The shadow landed, and the roar shook the island.

"There he is," Alistair muttered.

Vinsomers had unique scale colours, green but patches of blue and yellow. It was chomping on something, bringing it down its throat. After a moment, Alistair learned what it was when the Vinsomer spat a helmet out. It reared its head back and roared at Alistair, lightning surging out of its mouth. Alistair dived out of the way, the lightning bolt crashing into where he once stood. He rolled onto his knees, raising his hands, concentrating with the force.

"Okay, the force is with me, the force is with me, with you too big guy," Alistair said.

The Vinsomer roared again, saliva splashing on Alistair's face. He wiped his sleeve across his eyes and ran out of the way of another blast. The Vinsomer stampeded towards him, swiping with its claws. Alistair rolled and jumped away from it. He raised his shield just as the Vinsomer flapped its wings, throwing him back. The wind blast threw Alistair against some rocks, and the Vinsomer shot at the hill above him. Rubble rained down on him and Alistair kept his shield high, the rocks denting it.

"Come on, come on, let me connect," Alistair threw the shield aside and put his hand up. "Let me form the connection, help me please," he said.

The dragon reared its head back and released the lightning in its mouth. Alistair was suddenly pulled away, rolling down the hill until he reached Irving's feet.

"Your results leave much to be desired," Irving said.

"I'm trying, I'm trying to connect with it but...I can't do it, a few pulls and pushes, doesn't make me an expert with the force," Alistair stated.

Irving could tell from the shine in the man's eyes that he was frustrated, to the point of wanting to cry. He knelt in front of Alistair and touched his shoulder, a warm expression on his face.

"Don't let this be the end Alistair, try again!"

"I'll fail," Alistair retorted.

"Only if you believe you will," Irving said.

"I'm trying Maker Damn it, I am truly trying, trying to believe I can succeed, trying to succeed. But," he shook his head, "I'm not a mage, I'm not Daylen!"

"Of course you aren't, and you never will be, but your deeds can compare. My boy failed, many a time, but each failure was a lesson, which is why neither you nor he must be afraid of failure. Don't think of all that can go wrong because you will never put your energy into what can go right. You will tame this dragon Alistair, you will fight the Empire and you will lead people. Because if all you do is try then you will never truly believe that there is a chance you can succeed. Yes this person beside you might die, you might die, but never doubt your actions, don't doubt yourself," Irving explained.

"I will, I'll..." Alistair struggled to speak and let a few tears out.

"You can do this," Irving stepped forward.

He raised his hand, blocking a surge of electricity that the dragon spewed at him. There was a frightening sound in the air, and blasts suddenly slammed into the ground.

"FIGHTERS!" one of the rebels yelled, only to be thrown upwards by the explosions.

Alistair looked up at the fighters as they fired at him. Irving again was in his way, stabbing his staff into the ground and shielding Alistair from the blaster fire and the electric breathe.

"Maker, give me strength," Alistair whispered. "Force, guide me...how many men asked this of you?" Alistair slowly rose.

"Did those mages ask it of you, until the very bitter end?" Alistair asked.

"Did my father ask it of you before he was cut down?"

"Did my brother ask it of you as he tried to appease the empire?"

"Did world upon world conquered, people upon people enslaved ask you for help?"

"Did you answer them?"

Alistair bangs cast a shadow over his eyes as he walked through Irving's barrier. The dragon's breath shot past him, pebbles shook around him.

"Did they all fail because you weren't with them? Because the force wasn't with them?"

He looked up at the fighters swerving to dodge rocket fire from the rebels.

"If those men die, is it because you were not with them, FORCE! If those men die, is it because you have forsaken them, MAKER!" he yelled defiantly.

He stepped forward, the dragon wavering for a moment before roaring at him. Alistair raised his hand, his eyes hardening.

"We try hard to free ourselves, to live a good life, to be what we must be to be worthy of your paradise Maker. But we refuse to accept that failure is your will, or the Force's will. If however it is, then we don't need your will, we will create our own paradise, our own force in this world," Alistair explained.

The dragon began stampeding towards him, but Alistair remained still.

"Do you hear me? Our salvation will not be the force of your will, or the will of the force, but the force in us! THE FORCE OF OTHERS!" he yelled.

The dragon opened its maw and reached down towards Alistair.

* * *

The Sith fighters flew through the clouds, four of them in total.

"Prepare for another bombing run," the squadron commander said.

"No response from the commanders, we're clear to destroy the outpost," said another pilot.

"Readying payload, approaching bombing site!"

They flew down out of the clouds, seeing the island in their targeting view. There was a crackle of lightning, and then electricity surged through one of the fighters.

"WHAT!" the pilot screamed as his fighter dropped from the sky.

Another pilot saw the flap of a wing, just before an object slammed into the side of his fighter. The dragon grabbed the wing with its claws and span around with the fighter in its grasp. It released its hold and sent the fighter flying into the one beside it. Both crashed and burned in the air.

"What the..." the Squadron commander looked through his view canopy, seeing the dragon flying beside him.

It roared, firing electricity from its mouth and destroying the fighter's wing.

"NO!" the pilot screamed as the fighter dived headfirst into the water.

The Vinmark flew around one of the mountains, before returning to its island. Irving stood with the other rebels, looking up at the dragon as it landed. Folding its wings, the dragon lowered its head, and the rider atop it slid off. Alistair ignited the light sabre and raised it high.

"THIS VICTORY IS THE START!" he yelled. "Follow me, and we will strike at the empire, justice for Ferelden, for all the wrongs the empire has committed against us. Take what equipment is left, and prepare to move out!" he commanded.

Irving looked up proudly at Alistair, especially as the other men and women beside him cheered. Looking up at Alistair, at how he stood and spoke now, was completely different from many leaders Irving had seen.

'Now, now he looks more like a king!' he thought.

Next Episode 32: Against the arena

* * *

Hope everyone enjoyed the chapter, sorry to fans of Josephine. I'm a fan too and at first I didn't want to kill her.

But you guys can see now that Fausten's a smart and ruthless threat to the rebellion, I assure you, Dorian sees that now too.

Darth Asher casting: Tom Hiddleston (needs no examples of his performances I'm sure :)

Kargon face model and casting: Florian 'Big Nasty' Munteanu (Viktor Dragon from Creed 2).


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age Or Star Wars

Back with an update of Daylen's progress, and the return of a Knights of the Old Republic character.

* * *

Dragon Wars: The Force of others

Episode 32: Against the Arena

"Another," Onasi commanded.

He sat on a stool, not a chair, in a bar and not a ship. This was how his career was ending or at least that's how he felt at that moment. His orange coat was laid out on the opposite stool, and his glass was filled with bubbling ale. The droid serving raised its arm, topping up the cup beside Carth's glass with a clear green liquid. He raised it to his mouth, took a swig, swirled it around to taste it and then swallowed. It burned his throat, making him click his tongue. But the taste served its purpose, bringing him closer and closer to the point he needed to be. That point when the pain wouldn't be there anymore. The pain in his knee and back would be gone. And for a while, he'd forget the pain he felt every time he went to sleep and experienced the nightmares.

"Bantha milk please!"

Who the hell would order that at a bar? Carth looked to his side, rolling his eyes when his question received its answer. Of course it would be him. Klue had taken off his Jedi robes, opting to wear a yellow jacket. His light sabre was probably hidden in the pocket somewhere, instead he had an S-5 hand cannon on his belt, popular amongst Naboo security forces.

"Believe it or not this was not the last place I was thinking you'd come to," he said, chuckling.

"Don't tell me it was the first," Carth grumbled.

"Oh no, I checked plenty of other places, but this is the only one that has a mural of the mountains of your home world," Klue said.

Carth lowered his head in regret, he hadn't been home in a long time. Not since Korriban and the rogue op.

"Whatever it is, I'm not interested," Carth said.

"Aren't you at least going to hear me out?" Klue asked.

"I already tried doing good for the galaxy, last time I tried to play hero it didn't work out so well."

"I'm not him!"

"A bottle!" Carth commanded the droid, who raised a bottle of blue liquid.

Klue took his milk and followed Carth to a table. The former admiral rubbed his knee as he sat.

"Can't the doctors do anything for it?" Klue asked.

"Knee shot during a skirmish against old Revanite troopers, back injury from a fighter crash. Me becoming admiral was as much to keep me off of the field as it was to reward my many years of service," Carth explained.

"You deserved to be admiral, you won't find anyone in the republic fleet who doesn't agree with me," Klue said.

"But it won't be the republic fleet anymore, soon it'll be the First Order security service, unless they change the name to something even less provocative."

Carth opened his bottle, and the liquid immediately began to bubble and froth. Raising it to his mouth, he tilted the contents down his throat, the froth coating his beard and dripping onto his trousers. Klue didn't recoil, but he didn't laugh or smile either. The sight was pitiful and sad, but he still understood why Carth buried himself in it.

"I'm worried," Klue muttered.

"You mean the Jedi council is worried," Carth huffed.

"No I'm worried, our investigation into an unknown ship's passenger sent to Korvis is cut short just as the First Order posts troops there. And then the senate decides to disband the fleet and give the first order defence authority. A contract I would understand, but they're making the First Order more and more legitimate, first territory, first a senate seat and now..."

"The keys to the fucking kingdom," Carth growled.

"A fitting analogy I suppose," Klue said.

"What do you want Klue?" Carth asked.

"The Old republic back!"

"We'll never have that."

Klue tipped the milk down his throat, set the glass down hard and looked Carth in the eyes.

"I want to go to Korvis and save as many people as I can. I want to find the passenger of the unknown ship and find out where they came from and why they are here? Because every instinct I have is telling me that this is all connected, that we're looking at the opening shots of an invasion of the republic," Klue explained.

"You can't invade people who are letting you in," Carth said.

"Not just the First Order, something else out there."

Carth shook his head and drank again.

"I trusted the force, the Jedi once, you know what happened," he said.

"You also trusted Master Surik once, and me...I'm not here as a Jedi, I'm here as a person who wants to protect the republic and more importantly..."

"Protect the republic and what it stands for, it stands for the people doing whatever their leaders tell them to do. They're not like us, they don't care about what goes on beyond their stars or about preserving ideals. Even democracy doesn't matter to them if they have safety, security and entertainment," Carth explained.

"Fine, I want to protect what's left of the republic, and those people on Korvis held prisoner by those criminals. Not just because I believe worse is coming but because I believe we shouldn't have abandoned them, and shouldn't now," Klue explained.

He stood up and placed some credits on the table.

"I want to do the right thing, if you still want to then contact me," he said.

Carth tilted his glass again, looking away from Klue. Whatever he did, the dreams would return and he would feel the pain again. Seeing his reflection in the liquid, he briefly saw a younger man, more idealistic. A man who had been called hero once, and had believed in the good he did.

'I...I want to be that man again,' he thought.

* * *

Korvis

"The Mark of blood!"

Daylen looked at his new hand, of all people, it was Uldred now looking down at him. Circling him, lecturing him.

"Through partial fusion with a pride demon, you allow it to infect your arm. To infect it, to increase the power of your spells. As well as the unexpected side effect of giving you a new hand, it will slowly eat away at you the more you use your magic," Uldred explained.

Daylen sat in his cell, staring at the bloodied limb and flexing the fingers. Uldred faded as soon as Vim stepped into the cell.

"You've sacrificed part of yourself to darkness haven't you?" Vim asked.

He put his hands together and sighed, shaking his head at Daylen.

"I've known many men in the past whom have used many excuses for falling to severe measures. 'Desperate times, desperate measures,' 'you can't make an omelette without breaking a few eggs', 'the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few'. You however choose a different level of sacrifice don't you?"

"If possible I would like the sacrifice to me mine and mine alone," Daylen said.

"Those whom fight monsters often become what they fight," Vim said.

"We have the same saying on my world."

"What is the name of your world? Where are you from Daylen Amell?" Vim asked.

"A place of wonders, a place the Sith empire is bleeding dry. I don't want my people to suffer anymore, but at the same time I won't turn away whilst injustices are being committed here. By the Dark Jedi, by this First Order, by the Hutts and the people in the crowd," Daylen explained.

"Are you one of those people unsympathetic to everyone's plight?"

"I'm not unreasonable, I understand that these people are troubled, that they lack entertainment and stimulation, that they're as bullied by the warlords here as the slaves are!"

"They are slaves in all but name Daylen, the original rulers of this world picked at random the youths of the planet to fight, tributes they were called," Vim explained.

The older man leant against the wall and touched the granite.

"The force leaves echoes, I know you have little belief, but its power is very real. I know you were once hurt when you listened, but sometimes hurt is the only way you can learn. What will you be Daylen Amell? Another warlord? Or just another gladiator?" he asked.

Daylen squeezed his new hand into a fist and took a deep breath. Once, twice, exhaling again and clearing his mind of the anger, clearing even his self righteous (he admitted he could be) thoughts. Even the desire to help others was gone, as he opened his mind to new feelings, and to the force itself. But beyond that, the magic within him allowed him to access the fade. As a gateway his consciousness turned the planet into just another part of the Fade. In that world, the spirits reacted to the echoes that the force left behind. The ghostly sprites took on forms and voices, and re-enacted times of the past.

Once this planet had been lush and filled with greenery. The sun made it a hot world, like a rain forest. A species once occupied this world, evolving from predators and becoming hunters that kept their instincts and savagery. Yet across generations they developed honour, mastered building, caste systems and laws and even genetic science. They built great pyramids, built the arenas to test themselves and new prey. They had even built great ships to go beyond the stars, weapons to become greater hunters, genetic modifications to become perfect.

But this species of predators soon fell to another great empire. It had reminded Daylen somewhat of what had happened to Thedas. A technologically superior species arrived on their world, trained in the force, this species brought forth ships that could build more ships. These 'star forges' drew upon the life force of the world itself. In time, as well as bleeding the native species to extinction, the world had been turned into a dead zone. Slaves were brought to the arenas to test, but then the empire left and returned to the stars. Settlers came, building a life away from governments. They came close to building a small life for themselves free of the corruption of traditional governments.

Then the criminals arrived, Hutts, pirates and warlords imposed their rule on those whom sought freedom. They brought weapons with them, droids and ships, and more criminals. In time those whom were free became prisoners to debts, prisoners to the greed of the criminals, prisoners to the need to work as the criminals eliminated all the farming and building. Sorrow and anger echoed across the planet, a need to fight back though was destroyed when the criminals demanded tribute.

Kat was a good hunter, she joined to protect her sister and mother from the wrath of the Hutts. Within the very cell Daylen sat at, she nursed her wounds, interacted with other slaves and even fell in love. She fought and fought, but ultimately failed, dying in the cell. Crixus too fought, fought to return to the woman he loved, even if it meant butchering everyone. But one day he left his cell and never returned. Gaian was fighting for his family and the man he loved, it was the only method he had of raising money for his family. He refused to kill though, and eventually his own master had droids come into the cell and beat him.

The arena, Daylen expanded his mind ever more to the arena. To the underground, to the seats, the joy, the disgust, the frustration. 'If only we could look away,' 'if only we didn't have to come here'. With a yell, Daylen awakened and roared in frustration with himself. He had truly misjudged the world. For every person who enjoyed the spectacles of the arena, there were many, many more whom were imprisoned within it. Attending the arena was a requirement, no one on this planet was truly free. And now, he felt the fear of the arrival of warlords, of the Dark Jedi.

Kas'Im looked at Daylen Amell in shock, seeing the shadow his body had become and the light that glowed around him. Perfect balance with the force, oneness with the force. It was a state he had heard of but had never seen before. But just as soon as Daylen had achieved it, the effect faded and he returned to normal to look at the Blade Master.

"It all needs to stop, every bit of it, the crowd is the key," Daylen said.

"The crowd is the key," Kas'Im nodded.

The call came again to go into the arena, Daylen strapped on his shoulder armour and flexed the fingers of his cybernetic hand. He refused the swords offered to him by the weapon's master and opted for a metallic staff. Maximus leant against the wall, watching Daylen walk to the gate. The young man wrapped a black scarf around his mouth and hefted the staff onto his shoulder.

"A crushing weapon, will you be obliterating your opponents today?" the Mandalorian asked.

"No," Daylen said.

The roar of the crowd hit Daylen as soon as the gates opened. And as soon as the gates opened, Daylen ran out into the sands. He saw his opponents were Gamorrean axe wielders. Slamming the staff against the ground, he jumped and kicked one of the Gamorrean's across the head. When he landed, he span the staff around, hitting two more opponents. He smacked, thrust, tripped and kicked and head butted the warriors. But he didn't kill, blood from broken teeth hit the sand, but not bone fragments or guts. The crowd became silent when Daylen stabbed his staff into the ground. His speed had increased by drawing a haste spell inwards. Daylen grabbed one of the Gamorrean's by his tusk and whispered in his ear:

"When a storm hits this desert world, be ready to fight for your freedom, spread it to those whom believe in it!"

"KILL THEM!" Kalla yelled.

Daylen brought his feet together and bowed, one hand on his chest and another wavering at the side like a stage performer. Looks of amazement, shock and awe crossed the faces of the people in the crowd.

"Daylen Amell the merciful!" someone shouted.

He walked off of the sands, passing Maximus as he did.

"You'll do no favours to anyone if you show mercy," the Mandalorian said.

"Showing mercy is how I show respect, and honour," Daylen said.

Maximus lowered his head, thinking over what Daylen said. In the following matches, when facing the cybernetically augmented gladiators, Kas'Im sliced their augments with his sword. He elbowed then, kicked them, hit them with the flat of the sword and blinded them with sand. His final opponent he held in a choke hold, drawing him to the floor. But like Daylen, he too did not kill and he too whispered the words into their ears. Moorint and Shriv led other gladiators in the arena, doing the best they could not to kill their opponents and defying the order of execution. When Daylen was sent out into the sands again he faced a Shistavanen, a Lassat, an Ishi Tib and a Talz. Brandishing a pair of Tonfa, he deflected their blades and clubs, punching them until they lost their consciousness. Again he whispered to their leader, the Lassat.

"Never in my years as a presenter have I seen a development like this folks, but it's not just you people who need to be pleased, nor is it just our Hutt patrons, what do our guests have to say?"

The First Order representatives looked down at the fight. When Daylen knocked out the Ishi Tib, he kicked out the Lassat's knees and kneed him in the face, grabbing the strap of his shoulder guard before he could fall. He looked up expectantly at the VIP's, listening to sweet music to his ears.

"Live!"

"Live!"

Finally, he saw the true faces of the crowd, those whom didn't crave violence, but change. Together they chanted, throwing up their thumbs in rhythm. The hooded member of the order stepped up to the balcony and raised his fist. Slowly, he pulled up his thumb, causing a glorious roar to shake of approval to shake the arena.

"When a storm hits this desert world, be ready to fight for your freedom," he told the Lassat.

The Lassat looked at him in shock, before smirking and falling unconscious. Daylen raised his hand in acceptance of the praise, in acceptance of the crowd. Just as they had accepted his will, he had accepted their desperation. When Daylen returned to Torvan's house, he trained with the other gladiators and took part in their games. A group of them had gathered, Moorint and his migrants, the Zabrak brothers and others.

"B1 battle droids, and these first order troops, they have shock sticks and blasters but not a lot else, get in close and we rob them of the advantage," Daylen said.

"What about shock collars?" one of the Zabrak asked.

Daylen stroked his chin, unsure of an answer for that. They trained that day, and in thanks for the fortune he had won Torvan, his master granted him time alone with any of the house slaves. Daylen chose Ranna. When the guard droids turned their back, Ranna sat beside Daylen.

"Thank you for keeping my people safe," she said.

"You don't ever have to thank me for that, I did nothing, Moorint's the one you should praise, what's the consensus of the slaves in the house?" Daylen asked, getting straight to the heart of matters.

"Only a rare few truly enjoy their place here, one half though wants to slit Torvan's throat in his sleep," Ranna said.

"And the other half?"

"Beat him to death, I never thought anything besides a Flesh raider could have such violent thoughts."

"I know what they did to your people, but I'm allying with them too," Daylen said.

"Do you truly believe you can get them to help us?" Ranna asked.

"Help us to help them maybe, why should I stop at one group of slave? I've been through the house and memorised what I can, but are there any details about security one wouldn't know about from a surface look?" Daylen asked.

"A digital security system, if an incident happens here, 'authorities' are contacted. Some of the rooms also have gas dispensers and the shock collars are all linked to the remote," Ranna explained.

"Are the collar controls linked to a specific network or do they operate under their own power?"

"They're controlled by a singular network, no one wants a master to shock their slaves to death so the collars have limits set by the network. Maya may know more, she's sometimes sent on errands," Ranna stated.

Maya, a human girl whom had been refitted with cybernetic hands. She had been given a shock collar and an armed escort. So if she attempted to run, she would be gunned down in the streets. But that didn't mean she couldn't do her part, spy, secure materials. With a rag she jotted down position of guards on the streets, in the arena and outside of the house. In the arena, Daylen brought down Super battle droids custom fitted with flame throwers and electrified weapons. He smuggled out small parts of the destroyed droids, passing them to a Sullustan engineer. When Maya visited him as his 'reward', she gave him the parts she smuggled.

"The ship yard is here, within sprinting distance of the arena pens. Torvan keeps his three freight ships here, and still operational V-19 Torrent Starfighters for his collection," Daylen stated to the group when they gathered for games.

"I'm a pilot, I'll take one of the fighters," Shriv said.

It was in the arena that Daylen and his fellow slaves slowly won the respect of the crowd. Wald and Kitster struggled, but of all people it was the Zabrak brothers who helped them. When the match was over, the Zabrak leader shook Daylen's hand and tipped his head in respect. Daylen walked onto the arena and raised his sword for the crowd. His opponent entered to silence, dragging his swords across the sand.

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!" the announcer yelled. "WE HAVE A SPECIAL TREAT FOR YOU! HE WAS THE CHAMPION OF THE ARENA FOR YEARS! NOW HE'S BACK OUT OF RETIREMENT!"

He wore a black coat and armour on his lower body. Armoured gauntlets were wrapped around some kind of blasters with swords attached to them. He wore a black helmet that covered his face.

"OBSIDIAN DUX!" the announcer named Daylen's opponent, and the crowd went into an uproar.

The blood lust and excitement was back.

* * *

Ord Mantell

The XS Stock Light Freighter, it was the successor of the Dynamic class freighter (the same ship as the Ebon Hawk) and was noted to have improved by bounds from the earlier model. Klue's search for allies extended to some of the lesser liked areas of the galaxy. To the dark places Jedi in their robes only really went to when the danger was obvious. But Klue was known on Ord Mantell, as both Jedi vigilante, ally of the police force and respected opponent of the underworld. If Klue had his way, he would do away with all of the crime gangs. But they were a generally accepted part of the populace, often doing favours for the people living on the streets and protecting them in ways the local government couldn't. Smugglers, in Klue's experience, were the kind of criminals you could rely on once you paid them.

Arthur Red was one such smuggler, one such criminal that Klue often worked with. A type of 'you scratch my back, we'll scratch yours' kind of relationship. No criminal gang was stupid enough to ask Klue to kill a rival or take part in murder (nor were they disrespectful enough). Honour existed even amongst thieves, that was probably why Arthur was married to a Mandalorian. Akaavi Spaar, called 'fire hand' by her clan for her first kill. Klue felt the Zabrak's eyes on him as he walked underneath the XS. He approached the human-Zabrak hybrid and captain of the XS.

"I don't owe you money do I?" Arthur asked.

During his time as a republic fighter pilot, he went by the call sign Ace. Amongst the Smuggling coalitions, he was known as Voidhound. Arthur dropped his hydro spanner and put his hat over his spiked head, running a hand through his beard.

"Klue," he whispered.

"How are things Arthur?" Klue asked.

"New crew, would love for you to meet them, look buddy I've got a job lined up and it's something that could lead to a big one down the line. Besides my new crew doesn't like the republic much, especially with recent actions," Arthur explained.

"I understand, but I'm not here on behalf of the republic or the Jedi order, I'm just here as a man who can't afford to look back anymore," Klue said.

Arthur nodded his head, calling his service droid, C2-N2 over, the protocol droid carrying two bottles in his hand. The smuggler took one bottle opened it, throwing the other one to Klue. He took a swig and smacked his lips together, sitting on a gear for his ship. Finally he looked up at Klue and shook his head.

"You're planning on going to Korvis aren't you?" he asked.

"I am, the people there need help, whether they realise it or not the First Order is holding them as hostages," Klue said.

"And you need fast ships to get people in and out, and crews that know difficult, downright suicidal missions," Arthur said.

"You were the first person on my list."

"That's comforting, but I can't work for free, I've got a crew to keep happy and fed now and like I said they're not big fans of the republic or causes for that matter, don't take it the wrong way..."

"I understand Arthur, not everyone wants to stick their noses out for a stranger, or help others. It doesn't make any of them bad people, it just makes them people. You remember when you helped us smuggle food past the Mantellian separatist blockade? It was the right thing to do back then, a lot of people were suffering, you didn't save everyone but you were able to help quite a few. That's what we're aiming for right now," Klue explained.

"And what are you offering in return?"

"Out there, a person's life is valued by a three digit credit number, there is no valuation of a person's life, but if you help me I will give you five hundred credits for every person you get off of that planet," Klue said and turned away from Arthur. "You have two days to answer, we'll be commencing the operation on Korvis then."

"Klue," Arthur called out before the Jedi reached the edge of the ship. "Even if you manage to save people, what guarantee do you have that it'll change anything?" he asked.

"Change isn't what it's about," was Klue's answer, before he left.

* * *

Dantooine

The old Jedi temple of Dantooine was said to be haunted, haunted by the spirits of the three masters killed by Kreia/Traya the betrayer. When Jay-Den and the other service corps members landed on the planet, they each felt a shiver through the force. Looking upon the ruins of where the failed Revan plot was hatched, served as a reminder of the risks that were inherent in daring decisions. As well as reminder of the dangers of the dark side. In fact the whole planet was a reminder. The old grove, where Jedi knight Juhani controlled a pack of Kath hounds. The old Rakatan temple, where the map left there put Revan and Malak on the path to becoming Sith lords.

"It isn't all bad," Kaine muttered.

In the days since the fall of the Triumvirate, a powerful family rose to restore Dantooine's economy and establish it as more than just a colony world. The Sandral-Matale family were the subjects of a popular story. Rahasia Matale had taken the name of her husband Shen, whom likewise took her family name of Sandral. This was to show both their grandparents that they turned away from their family feud. Building a life of marital bliss, they raised three children and later found fortunes after the passing of their parents. Sandral discovered a plasma vent and formed the 'Sandral Power company', Rahasia, taking after her brother became an archaeologist and established numerous museums across the system. Through their efforts, the people of Dantooine welcomed the Jedi again, and encouraged them and non-Jedi to take part in pilgrimages to the temple and other lands believed to once be held by the Jedi.

Certain areas though were kept from the public path. Those were the areas that Klue's students walked, with others. Jedi Padawans and service corpsmen ready to take on the next phase of their tests, or Knight-errant's seeking new wisdom within the force caves. A multitude of people followed them, and as they walked, they spoke of what was happening on Korvis. Sayla spoke with Zabrak twins and a robed Trandoshan, Kaine spoke with several humans, Tiko with a Twi'lek and a Tholothian and her Loth wolf. Jay-Den though walked the path alone, reaching a force cave where crystals resided.

His light became redundant when he reached the back of the cave, and was illuminated by the shining crystals that served as the source of the light sabres. Emotions resonated from the special crystals, absorbed by all those whom had explored the caves. Fear, wonder and serenity dangerously wobbled on the scales of the crystals. They were unbiased representations of the battle between the light and the dark that resided in all living creatures. Jay-Den wanted to do good in the world, he wanted to fight against all evil and strike it down before it struck at the good. So he pushed himself physically, and intellectually to study light sabre duelling and star fighter piloting. He logged the hours, practiced and continued to improve himself. Yet still he knew he was a long way from being considered a true Jedi knight.

"I am one with the force and the force is with me," most Jedi chanted the Jedi code.

But as Jay-Den crossed his legs together, he chanted what force priests would say. Not Jedi, but men and women so devoted to the force, so attuned to it that they spent their days praising it, spreading the faith and encouraging people to believe. 'May the force of others be with you' was a popular saying, taken directly from the days of the first Jedi, before it was simplified to 'may the force be with you'. The force was in everyone, that was the logic behind the saying. When people helped each other, it was the force in its purest form. Yet there were times Jay-Den knew he would be alone. People went through some of the most defining moments of their lives alone.

So whilst his companions walked with others and found their crystals through trial and error, and the wonder of exploration and discovery. Jay-Den reached within himself, analysed himself and through the force, trusted in what he would pull into his grasp. Laying out the pieces of his light sabre, he focused. The crystals shined and Jay-Den levitated off of the ground, followed by the parts of the light sabre. Slowly, a singular crystal was chipped from the mass and floated in front of Jay-Den's face. His confidence and desire to do good, clashed with his urge to destroy evil and frustration with the law. The blue of the crystal began to mix with a red, and the parts of the light sabre began to form over it. Silver alloys slid over a grey leather grip, a singular trigger could be seen underneath a smooth hilt.

Jay-Den returned his feet to the ground, took hold of his finished light sabre and ignited it. A purple beam slid from the hilt and illuminated his face. He held in his hand the embodiment of darkness and light in harmony. The representation of his anger and serenity, his light sabre. Emerging from the cave with his weapon he looked upon the students. They had finished before him and waited. The group had halved, but Jay-Den saw that whilst he sought strength for himself, his friends had found both strength for themselves and allies. Twenty Men and women whom would dedicate themselves to their cause. Twenty light sabres that ignited, a flurry of greens, blues, yellows, and purples. Jay-Den spotted one girl with a black sabre, and another with dual white beams glowing side by side from her hilt.

Sayla held in her hand a double bladed light sabre. As the most skilled fighter amongst them, she took on a blue crystal to embody the path of the Jedi guardian. Kaine held a sabre consisting of cheap parts, with a pair of dice hanging off a chain on the pommel, the yellow of his crystal representing his seeking of multiple skills as a Jedi Sentinel. A path that Jay-Den thought Tiko would follow with his engineering skills, but he was an ultimately peaceful man, and the green of his crystal represented his path as a Jedi consular.

Jay-Den raised his sabre, igniting it and he held it high with the other Jedi. A vow to the force that they would fight together for the same cause.

* * *

Korvis

The masked man walked with his cloak wrapped around his body, the Prophetess beside him. His knights walked on the streets, the people keeping away from them. He walked to the cantina, bopping his head to the music. Locals had been driven out in favour of the higher classes, or anyone intimidating enough to be given a pass. In his case, he flashed credits and was let in. Taking a seat, he watched the scum of the galaxy converse, and the even prettier scum laugh with one another. Murder was taking place in the arena, and they smiled. But then he heard surprising news.

"No bloodshed, that's not good for business," said a human in a Tux.

"Still, the crowd is entertained, the problem is, some of my own slaves have begun to refuse to kill," said another man.

The masked man smirked underneath his shield. Such an unexpected development could put a smile on his face. Still, it didn't mean the Prophetess's visions would be wrong. After all she saw far off potential futures, not the specific sequence of events that led to those futures. Rising from the stool, the masked man made his way out of the cantina, some people watching him fearfully as he moved.

"Who is he fighting?" he asked the Prophetess.

"Another assassin," she said.

Another roar erupted from the arena, reaching the ears of the Knights. The echo of blaster fire followed. Daylen rolled out of the way of Obsidian's blaster fire. The purple blasts streaked past him. Then the champion ran towards him, throwing a flurry of sword strikes that Daylen parried. Images of his practice sessions with Kas'Im flashed before his eyes. The blade master taught him much about sword fighting, noting Daylen had a talent for it. Maximus furthered his teaching by advising Daylen about his breathing patterns. He told Daylen he had good endurance and determination, but wouldn't need such things if he controlled his breathing, enabling him to control the amount of stamina he was using. So to Obsidian's surprise, he was fighting a better opponent than he previously expected. The armoured man thrust his swords at Daylen, only for him to deflect them multiple times.

'Improving as he fights, just as he did in the previous fights,' Obsidian mused.

He threw a cloud of sand into Daylen's face, and ran back firing his blasters. It struck through the sand, but hit only a distortion. Obsidian stopped, looking through the cloud. Daylen held his red fist up, black and red energy glowing around it. He was clearly in pain, fighting through it to conjure a shield of mana. Bits of blood spurted from his arm, and his opponent took that as a sign of weakness. Obsidian aimed his blaster shots at Daylen's feet. But Daylen threw his hand forward, releasing a blast of fire. Obsidian rolled, throwing his coat off as it was set alight. Plasma spread around Obsidian's swords and he scraped them together, releasing sparks onto the sand. Jumping and flipping, Obsidian kicked Daylen across the face and knocked back his sword with his blades. Daylen slid back, seeing that the force of the blow had blunted his sword. He gripped the tip of his sword, holding it tightly until what was left of the sharp edges cut into his skin. Then he dragged his hand across the blood.

He recalled what Vim told him, 'don't be afraid of your darkness, unleash it'. Vim must have been more than a gladiator, he had to be. How he spoke of the force, of the dark side of it. Spreading his blood across the sword, Daylen focused on the magic of the mark. The darkness spread across the sword, the fade twisting the sword. Darkness and a red haze rose from Daylen's arm and his eyes glowed red. Obsidian backed away, lowering his swords for a moment. He looked over his shoulder, at the Jawa Korrenze group. The gate beneath them opened and a droid emerged. It had a streamlined body, its arms splitting apart to reveal it had four arms, each equipped with an electro-baton.

Obsidian looked towards Raknar Tib, the man simply drank from his glass. The gate beneath him revealed a fully armoured man in a cybernetic harness, buzz saw blades attached to his gauntlets continually rotating. Another gaze was thrown at Callista Sojen, former Night-sister of Dathomir, she grinned as her fighter appeared in a burst of green flames. A Zabrak with skull like tattoo patterns, green fire burning in his hands. Finally, Obsidian's eyes settled on Kalla, whom opened her arms, presenting the larger gate beneath the VIP booth. There was a great hiss as the door opened. It crawled slowly out of the gate, saliva dripping from its maw. The creature had large horns on its head, and spikes running down its back, down to its tail. Crawling like a lizard native to its desert region, it was in fact however the most dangerous creature of Tatooine. The great Krayt dragon roared at Daylen, who smirked underneath his scarf.

The fade twisted his weapon, increasing its size, turning it into a black great sword with curved blades stretching from the edges of the main blade. Black and red fire burned around the sword and Daylen turned to his opponents with a snarl.

"Don't be afraid, _**OF THE DARKNESS!" **_he roared.

Next Chapter 13: The Rebel march

* * *

Hope everyone enjoyed the chapter.

The Jedi were were introduced to through Klue's apprentices, were actually based on the artwork released for the High Republic series.


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